A Constant Ache
by Pepper Dine
Summary: Returning for his last year at Hogwarts, Draco has to suffer through an impending disability and endure animosity from his own House, feeling as though the weight of the world rests on his weak shoulders-until Hermione offers to share the burden that is.
1. Chapter 1

Here's my first Dramione! It may be slow updating because I am at university and finals are coming up. However, I'll try to be as prompt as possible. One more thing: NO FLAMES. Either you like it or you don't-and if you don't, then keep your opinion to yourself. Thanks.

**Note**: Starts during their seventh and last year at Hogwarts. Harry supposedly defeated Voldemort during their sixth year after Draco let the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. Dumbledore and Snape are both alive. The Weasley twins are both alive and well.

**A Constant Ache**

**-pepper dine**

_"The worst pain a man can suffer: to have insight into much, and power over nothing."_

_-Herodotus (Greek philosopher)_

**Chapter 1**

It was the start of a new year-their seventh year to be precise. Draco rolled onto his back on his large, four-poster bed and stared at the magically enchanted ceiling. He traced the floating constellations, naming stars and nebulas he had learned in Astronomy the previous year till a loud crack announced his house elf, calling him to breakfast. He simply nodded, too tired to respond. He felt weak and his joints ached all over. This was nothing new to him-not now anyways.

Since the last half of sixth year he had been feeling run down. He couldn't sleep and if he did manage to doze off, he always woke up exhausted. It wasn't too bad at first, but now he just simply couldn't sleep at all. Half the night he stared at the ceiling, counting the changing stars. If he closed eyes, it was only to startle awake less than a half hour later and the viscous cycle began again.

Slowly, Draco pushed himself up and closed his eyes, letting his weary muscles relax under the strain. Mornings were never good to him. He was stiff and rigid. Gingerly, he stretched his arms, slowly unbending the elbows and sighing when the pain reverted to a dull ache. Then he swung his legs over the bed and supported himself up, swaying slightly with the effort. For a whole two minutes, Draco tested his weight, shifting from one foot to the other till the shooting pain subsided somewhat.

Confident his legs wouldn't buckle beneath him, he stumbled to the bathroom, yawning widely. His pale, sleepy reflection stared at him in the mirror. Draco briefly examined the shadows under his eyes with a frown before turning away and furiously brushing his teeth. The action earned him a throbbing arm and bleeding gums. Sighing in frustration, Draco cleaned up and dawning fresh clothes, made his way down to breakfast.

His mother was already there, staring unblinkingly at the untouched food before her.

"Morning Mother," Draco greeted for politeness' sake as he scraped a chair across from her.

Narcissa looked up as though in a dream and slowly blinked. "Did you pack?" she asked in a dull, lifeless voice.

"Last night," Draco replied, helping himself to crepes and strawberries. "Will you see me to the station?"

He was hoping she would come, even if it was to only wave him off to school, but Narcissa disappointed him with a pointy nod. They resumed eating in silence.

Draco chewed slowly, trying to ignore the aching in his jaw. He wanted to crawl back into bed and remain there for the rest of eternity.

"Draco-" He looked up, eyeing his mother's drawn features. "I need to tell you something."

He laid down his fork and gave her his full attention.

"I-" Narcissa hesitated, "-I'm thinking of moving to Germany."

When Draco said nothing, she continued, "I've been thinking about it since Lucius's arrest. You'll finish your last year at Hogwarts and after you'll be busy building your own life. The way things stand, I don't play much of a role in your life-"

"What are you saying Mother? You know I'll always need you." Draco's voice shook slightly, but he hoped she didn't notice.

"And I'll be there if you do, but you're an adult now, Draco. You don't need me to constantly care for you and I-well I just need some time for myself." She met his eyes then as though awaiting his approval.

"Germany…" he slowly repeated and gulped inaudibly. "I take you'll be staying at your sister's?"

Narcissa sighed heavily. "Yes. Your father never approved of Andromeda, but she and I were always close. She helped me a lot during your time and I long to make up those lost years with her."

He nodded then, though the action sent pain shooting up his neck. "A change might do you good, Mother. Will you be leaving today?"

"Yes, after lunch," she replied, relieved. She picked up her fork and daintily cut a strawberry in half. "And Draco, I might not be coming back at all this year. I don't know if London will ever be the same for me again. You may have to spend the holidays at Hogwarts."

Alone. Draco's heart clenched. He had been looking forward to spending Christmas with his Mother. It had been two years since they had done something as normal as it was, although it wouldn't be the same without Lucious. He supposed he wasn't invited to Germany either.

"Very well, Mother, if that's your wish…"

Narcissa studied her son silently for a time as she finished breakfast. He had grown again over the summer-not too much, but enough to reach taller than his father. She smiled at that, thinking about Lucius having to look up at his son-not that he would be seeing him for a long time. Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban after his capture since the fall of the Dark Lord the previous year. His sentence had been announced to at least ten years and he had been kept in isolation, denied family visits, till the "Ministry deemed him fit for repentance."

Narcissa had known this would befall them eventually. Ever since Lucious took to following that monster, she had feared for her family's well-being. Draco had taken the news hard, though he rarely showed it.

"Did you sleep well, love?" she suddenly asked, "You look tired."

He looked up at her unexpected inquiry and shrugged. "The usual, Mother. You know how I get when the weather changes." It was a lie, but if Narcissa suspected anything, she remained silent. If there was one thing she had learned about her son, it was to let him reveal things in his own time. Draco didn't react well to emotional manipulation, and he certainly wasn't very open with his feelings.

"Well, perhaps a short nap on the train will fare you well. Be sure to eat lots of fruits, Draco, and drink plenty of pumpkin juice. You hardly eat healthy-" if anything at all, she didn't need to add.

"I will," he simply said and they finished breakfast in silence. He wished sometimes that she cared more.

* * *

Hermione Granger stepped onto the platform with a sense of purpose. _She _was going to make a difference this year, she firmly decided as she hugged her parents good-bye. Ron and Harry joined her as she was loading her trunk into the train.

"Feels great doesn't it?" Harry asked with a huge grin. He had never looked happier.

"With Voldemort gone and a whole new year at Hogwarts without complications? Of course it does!" she agreed as Ginny bounded towards them, reaching her hand out to Harry.

They'd begun dating over the summer. Hermione had always known it was bound to happen, what with Ginny's "Harry obsession" and Harry's prolonged longing for his best friend's sister. Ron merely turned his back to them, having reluctantly accepted the idea, and said,

"So, uh, I 'spect you'll be busy this year, what with your new duties. You'll still find time to hang out with us at the Common Room though? You know, for Harry's sake. He worries about you when you aren't around."

Hermione gave him her best smile. "If I didn't know better, Ronald, I'd think you were asking time with me…alone."

Her words had the desired reaction. Ron's ears turned beat red and laughing, Hermione boarded the train just as the whistle blew. They waved to the Weasleys and the Grangers assembled to see them off and then went in search of an empty compartment.

"I swear, there are more students this year than all our other years put together!" Ginny remarked after ten minutes of going from one compartment to the next. They were all full without a single, spare seat!

"You'd think they'd have one booked for Harry or something…" Ron mumbled, to which Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We haven't tried there," Harry began, but Ginny squeezed his hand, halting him.

"Those are the Slytherin compartments, Harry. We don't want to go there."

"But it's not as though they're restricted. Besides, the way I saw it, there were far fewer Slytherins boarding. They're bound to have an empty compartment or two."

"He's got a point, you know," Ron vouched.

"Well, let's not start anything…" Hermione pressed as the boys led the way into the black and velvet green corridor. It was eerily silent.

The compartments that were occupied had the doors thrown open, as though the Slytherins dare not keep any secrets from their House mates. The four made their way, trying not to return the angry glares and scowls sent their way. When they came to the end of the corridor, only a single compartment remained, and it was closed shut.

"Come on," Ron said and slid the door open.

They had been so sure that this one was unoccupied that the sight of the blonde boy somewhat startled them. He was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, his head leaning against the cool glass window. A cloak was thrown haphazardly over his slumped form.

"Do you think he's asleep?" Harry asked when his nemesis didn't move.

Hermione took a tentative step inside and when she found after a moment that she hadn't been hexed on the spot, whispered, "Malfoy?"

He remained unresponsive. "He's asleep," she confirmed, turning to her friends with a look as though asking, _what are you still doing outside?_

"Of all the bloody compartments!" Ron spat and cursed under his breath, nevertheless following them in and shutting the door.

"Why is he alone?" Harry wondered as he, Ginny, and Ron promptly slid in the cushion opposite the snoozing Slytherin. That left Hermione on his side of the bench. A little reluctantly, as though afraid of waking a sleeping dragon, she sat down in the corner farthest from him near the door. It was then that she noticed the frayed book lying open next to him on the seat. A closer look told her it was the textbook for Ancient Runes. Funny, she hadn't thought Malfoy had an interest in the subject.

"Maybe they abandoned him," Ginny was saying to Harry. "His House probably doesn't think very highly of him now that Lucius is out of power."

"Serves him right," Ron snorted. "His dad's rotting in Azkaban, isn't he? If you ask me, the whole lot of them should have been locked up and Lucius should have gotten the Kiss-"

"Ronald!" Hermione cried, alarmed, "How can you say that? Lucius might deserve the punishment, but Malfoy was forced into the mess. I don't think he was responsible."

Harry clenched his jaw, but said nothing. He knew his opinion was starkly different than Hermione's-she was just too kind. He actually agreed with Ron this once. Malfoy had almost caused Dumbledore's death, letting the Death Eaters inside the castle. If anything, he deserved a fate worse than what he led those innocent students and families to at the hands of the Death Eaters.

"What are they thinking by letting him come back anyways?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged, unsure. "Dumbledore probably forgives him, although I doubt anyone else does."

Hermione glanced at the blonde. His hair stuck out over the top of the cloak he had snuggled under. "I think you're right, Harry. That's probably why he's here alone."

And as they watched, Draco stirred just barely. Before they had even registered his movement, he started awake and screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_"The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed."__  
_

_- Buddha_

* * *

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Shut up!" Ron cried, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Draco stopped abruptly and fell back into his seat, panting.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked, gently prying Ginny's painful hold on his wrist.

Draco simply stared and panted, his grey eyes wide with something akin to fright. They watched him tentatively, Harry's fingers curled around his wand, but when he didn't so much as blink, they relaxed just a bit.

"I think he's had a nightmare," Harry whispered, knowing all too well how traumatic those moments could be.

Hermione nodded mutely and cautiously called Malfoy's name, hoping to shake him from his stupor. "Malfoy?"

He gave no indication he heard her, but his breathing went erratic. Afraid the blonde was losing control of his magic, Harry suddenly jumped out of his seat and grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

"Wake up, Malfoy! Up!" he cried.

"Harry, no! Stop-he's in pain!" Hermione exclaimed for Malfoy had gone chalk white, his eyes screwed shut, and fists balled in obvious agony.

When Harry released him, he crumpled in the seat, whimpering in pain. Ron and Ginny watched from aback, unsure of what to do and uncomfortable with a pitiable Malfoy.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Hermione asked when he simply lay there, eyes closed.

"What do you _think _Granger?" he spat, angrily pushing himself up. He gingerly touched his shoulders where Harry had held him and winced, hissing in pain.

"I didn't hold you that tightly," Harry said as he stepped back to give him room.

Draco didn't reply. He was too busy matting down his ruffled hair and dusting his cloak from where it had slithered to the floor.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he irritably asked as he straightened. "Come to spy on me again? Think I'm going to _Curciatus _you in my sleep?"

Ron rolled his eyes, a bit surprised Malfoy hadn't whipped out his wand yet. _Leave it to Malfoy to be the drama queen, _he wryly thought.

"Look, we didn't come to spy ok? Everywhere else was full so we-"

"Save it, _Potter. _As if I cared where you stick your nose," and he stood slowly, holding onto the window for support as dizziness washed over him. It was definitely not a good idea to titter around on a speeding train in his state. Avoiding their puzzled looks, he stumbled forward and pushed open the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, unable to hide her concern.

"Away from you," he grumbled and slammed the door in their faces.

* * *

"Well, that was…different," Ginny muttered flopping back into the seat.

"Did you see his face?" Ron snickered, "It looked like he'd a seen a ghost!"

"It's not funny Ron!" Hermione scolded. "He looked like he was in a lot of pain."

Ron merely shrugged. "Maybe he's caught a bug or something."

"Do you think he's coming back? He left his stuff here," Harry asked, waving a hand at the trunk in the overhead shelf and his book on the floor.

Hermione, ever the friend of books, bent down and picked up the beaten textbook, smoothing its pages almost lovingly. So what if it belonged to Malfoy? A book was a book.

"Maybe once the train stops," she replied, settling back into the seat with the book in her lap.

Now that their subject of unease had fled, the four relaxed and began chatting to pass the time by. Hermione glanced at the book from time to time. She'd told herself she wouldn't touch because it wasn't her property and she didn't like prying in other people's things, but a textbook was hardly something private. Besides, she wanted to see if she couldn't do a quick review.

Throwing all caution to the wind, she opened the book and stared at the elegant writing that marked the top corner of the inside page.

_Property of Draco A. Malfoy_

His neat, calligraphic writing took her by surprise. She would have never thought Malfoy was the sort of person who particularly cared about his handwriting. On the other hand, she never thought Malfoy read textbooks in his spare time either. Deciding not to take out her prejudices on an innocent book, she busily turned the pages and lost herself in the symbols and cryptic mysteries that was Ancient Runes.

It wasn't until she'd read five chapters that a frown creased her brow. The coming chapter was marked with scribbles in red ink and words had been viciously crossed only to be corrected at the top. They were so crammed together and squeezed in that it was hard to make out where one word ended and the other began. On closer inspection, however, she recognized the tiny, elegant scrawl of the book's owner.

Her eyebrows shot up at the inclination. Draco Malfoy had made corrections to a popularly used _school _textbook! Immediately she brought the book closer and began going through his thorough notes. After a bit of pondering and deciphering, she was relieved to find that the book wasn't wrong at all, but what impressed her almost to the point of shock was that Malfoy had transcribed the symbols and pictographs into another form of Runic alphabet. She was sure they had never learned those strange symbols and yet they seemed as though they belonged in the textbook along with the rest. Not for the second time that day, Hermione found herself wondering just how much she didn't know about their nemesis.

A knock on the compartment door announced the food trolley. _Is it that time already? _Hermione thought as she closed the book while Ron and Harry jumped towards the cart, fishing out money. She laid the book on Malfoy's discarded cloak, wondering where he had gone.

"Aren't you going to get anything 'Mione?" Ron asked, unwrapping a second chocolate frog while he munched on the first.

"No, I'm not hungry. I'll just be to the lavatory," she said and excused herself from the compartment. She made her way further down the corridor where she hoped the Slytherin lavatories were located. She was just nearing a large, lonely window (they had one for view in every House corridor) when she traced an unmistakable figure curled into himself on the floor.

"Malfoy?" she called and he looked up from where he'd rested his head on his drawn knees, a frown painted in greeting.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" he grumbled, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes.

Hermione found his actions rather odd. "If you're so tired, you're welcome back in the compartment you know-"

"No, I'm not. The Weasel and Scarhead would much rather jump down my throat." He sighed wearily and stretched out his long legs, again wincing a little. If he hoped Hermione would overlook his discomfort, he was sorely mistaken. He was dealing with the Golden Trio after all.

"You know, if a person's in pain they tend to _do _something about it, not just let it linger on like primitive torture."

He shot her a pointed glare. "And just whom do you suggest I go to to end this _primitive torture, _Granger? Because Merlin help me, I so do love to put up with pain!"

"I'm only trying to help-" she scowled and was immediately snapped at.

"Well, don't. You need to learn not to give help when it's obviously not needed. Can't you see Granger? I-don't-want-you here. Now sod off and leave me alone!"

Hermione didn't bother replying and left him to his misery as she turned heel and went on her way with a huff. Really, what had she expected? A nice 'hello' and cordial conversation? Merlin the day a Slytherin and Gryffindor engage in such civility mark the end of the Wizarding world!

There was no one crowding the Slytherin girl's cubicle, so Hermione was done and out in minutes. She made her way back and decided at the last moment to satiate her curiosity just a bit. When she got closer, she pressed herself against the corridor wall and tentatively watched the huddled form, careful not to so much as breathe harshly lest it alert him. Malfoy had stretched out his left arm and was flexing his fingers. At first she thought he was examining his nails, which were shell pink and polished enough, but the slow halting way in which he bent them told her he was testing their rigidity. He suddenly hissed and cradled his hand to his chest, rubbing circles over his knuckles as though bruised.

Hermione frowned, more puzzled than ever. He was in pain. That bit was obvious, but why, Malfoy being who he was, wasn't he complaining and making an utter fuss over everything? Then again Malfoy, being Malfoy, she concluded, was an enigma.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_"The human body can bear immeasurable pain and yet recover.  
Wounds can heal.  
But once your spirit is broken, everything falls apart."_

_-Palden Gyasto (Human Rights Activist)_

* * *

Draco glared at Granger when she passed him on her way back, pointedly ignoring the curious look she gave him. He hated the concern in her brown eyes. He knew it was rehearsed and fake.

Once she was well out of sight, he sighed and dropped his head on his knees. God, he hurt. His muscles felt so sore and stiff, and he felt exhausted enough to pass out the moment he stepped off the train. He was contemplating whether to just skip the Sorting and go straight to bed, when the train suddenly gave a vicious jerk. Draco was sent flying into the wall, his elbow colliding harshly with the hard surface. He stifled a yelp and cradled his arm as the train slowed to a stop. Students stuck their heads out, murmuring at the sudden stop.

Draco pulled himself to his feet and stared out the window. It was pitch black and…he saw something moving out there. Squinting, he pressed closer to the window, trying to see through the thick fog. He could trace black shapes pawing the ground and trotting about. Once his eyes adjusted and the fog thinned, he gasped at the horse like winged creatures roaming about in the grass. They were tall and somewhat skeletal, their hides and enormous wings stretched taunt as though made of leather.

_Thestrals, _he gulped, seeing them for the first time.

A pigeon owl suddenly appeared seemingly out of nowhere and dropped a letter in his hand. Draco scrutinized the scruffy bird, recognizing It as one of Hogwarts' and cracked open the seal on the parchment. Spidery scrawls greeted him.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_There has been an unexpected delay, the cause of which you can very well see. It's time you put yourself to use and carry out the responsibilities the Headmaster for some unfathomable reason granted you. _

_Severus Snape_

_Head of House_

_Slytherin_

Draco cursed under his breath when he realized just what those expected duties were. He made his way slowly back to the compartment and found the Trio talking loudly among themselves over the delay.

"Blimey, at least it's not Dementors this time," Weasley breathed.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to move them somehow," Granger remarked as she fastened on her cloak with a golden pin shining on its nape.

"I thought you'd be Head Girl," Draco suavely replied and the four turned startled eyes on him, just now noticing his presence.

"Got a problem with that?" Harry asked, his voice laced with hatred.

Draco merely frowned, in no mood to argue with the world's biggest prat. He picked up his cloak and swung it over his shoulders, making sure the pin stood out like Granger's.

"No way! _You're _Head Boy?" Weasley cried as their jaws dropped. "What the hell is Dumbledore thinking!" He seemed to be the only one able to speak.

"Apparently he isn't thinking at all," Ginny Weasley muttered, crossing her arms.

Granger suddenly cleared her throat. "Well, since you are Head Boy, why don't you go calm the Slytherins? We'll go see about the thestrals after."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly Granger, you don't think thestrals just appear out of thin air, do you? We're on Hogwarts grounds, possibly fifteen minutes from the gates. You don't need to do anything about those beasts. Just tell everyone to walk out."

"Then you go handle the Slytherins," she sniffed and turned to her friends, "I guess I'll see you at the castle."

They nodded and she spun on her heel without another word. Malfoy sullenly retreated back out the corridor, wondering how the hell he was to confront his House. He spotted Blaise and Nott hanging out their compartment and decided to approach them.

"Uh, Zabini! Nott!" he called and they turned around to face him, only to scowl their disapproval.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Zabini spat, his eyes glinting dangerously. If they noticed his pin, they ignored it.

"Just for you to get off the train. Everyone's walking back to Hogwarts. Tell the others." And without waiting for anymore spiteful remarks, he hopped off the train in a flurry of swirling robes.

* * *

Draco wished for once he hadn't tried to show anyone up and kept his bloody mouth shut. The short walk to the carriages was _exhausting! _At one point, he was sure he would fall flat on his face in the mud from lethargy.

_Bloody hell Draco! Wake up! _he chided himself, pinching his cheeks to keep his eyes open. The bone-numbing cold didn't help either and the rumbling in the clouds threatened rain any second.

"Malfoy! Hurry up or the carriage will leave!" He looked up to see who in the world dared address him and was hardly surprised when Granger beckoned him impatiently.

"You didn't have to wait for me," he said as he climbed with some difficulty.

"Believe me, we wouldn't have," Harry replied.

"But you left this," Granger cut in before he could retort back, thrusting his textbook in his arms. Draco merely tucked it under his cloak without so much as a grateful nod.

The ride to the castle was silent. The Trio was deliberately avoiding Draco's eyes and he wondered once to check if he had something on his face. When was the last time he'd ever sat _in silence _with the Trio without at least earning or giving a black eye? He had the urge to suddenly throw in a few colorful insults, but he was so tired he couldn't manage more than a stifled yawn.

They parted ways with muted glares and Draco stumbled up the steps and to his House table. No one paid him much heed when he slumped on the bench, head in his hands. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

"…aring all the time-Hermione?"

She started and flicked her gaze to Harry who was frowning slightly at her. "What?"

"You've been staring at Malfoy for the past five minutes!" he hotly cried.

"Oh, well he is acting strange, isn't he?" she shrugged, helping herself to more pumpkin juice. The Sorting had finished, announcements had been made, and the feast had begun, yet Malfoy hadn't so much as stirred through the entirety.

"Sleeping like a log, that one," Ron said, glancing over his shoulder, "Think he's…you know-"

"No!" Harry and Hermione cried together, and promptly avoided each other's eyes.

"Just hoping," Ron mumbled and dug into his mashed potatoes.

They didn't give Malfoy another thought the rest of the meal.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy." Severus Snape stood over the oblivious boy, calling him for the tenth time. The feast was long over and it was only after all the students had filed out that he noticed the Head Boy dozing blissfully at the table.

With an impatient sigh, he whipped out his wand. "_Augmenti," _he muttered with a lazy flick and a stream of water shot out, drenching the blonde in a cold river.

Draco shot up, sputtering and gasping, his eyes wide.

"Wha-?" he coughed, and raised his eyes to meet the Potion Master's glare.

"This, Mr. Malfoy, does not seem like a commendable way to make an impression," Snape greeted in a cold voice that could have frozen Hell.

Draco shivered and slowly stood, realizing to his embarrassment that the Great Hall was empty and that he had probably neglected his Head Boy duties on the very first day.

"If you hadn't been daydreaming, you would have been notified of the Head Boy quarters. But it seems you find it much more important to laze off during the Headmaster's speech." And he whirled on his feet. Draco hurriedly followed him, trying not to stumble in his wake.

Without a word, Snape led him through an unfamiliar passage, up a flight of spiraling stairs, and stopped in front of a large portrait of a lovely lady in a balcony.

"Belladonna, this is your new _Head Boy_," Snape drawled and the way he stressed the last two words pricked Draco.

The lady in the portrait scrutinized him up and down, frowning slightly. "_This? _Did he go for a swim in the lake? Why is he wet?" she inquired in a high pitched scowl.

"Password, Belladonna," Snape snapped and spun on his heel, leaving Draco to face the portrait alone.

"Let me make one thing clear before you step in boy, I like my quarters clean. You're the Head Boy and must be presentable-"

"Just give me the password," Draco cut in. He did not want a lecture from a _portrait! _

"Hmph! Manners might help as well," she sniffed, "_Your _password is…'mannerless'."

Draco blinked and shot her an angry glare when she swung open. He stumbled in and walked through a stone archway. The Common Room spanned out to greet him. Warm red and velvet green colors blended through the comfortable furnishings and rugs to unite both Houses. The Slytherin and Gryffindor banners hung on opposite walls. Two staircases, one under each banner, spiraled upwards to what Draco assumed must be his and the Head Girl's rooms.

Not even in the mood to explore, Draco trudged up the stairs under his House banner and opened a silver-knobbed door. He didn't even bother flicking on the lights nor changing out of his soaking clothes. Kicking off his shoes, he blindly flopped onto his bed and snuggling under the covers, promptly fell asleep.

* * *

"I beg you to reconsider, Headmaster," Snape implored for the fifth time that day. He was in the Headmaster's office again, here to make the old wizard see reason. "Draco Malfoy does not deserve this post, however much I wish a Slytherin to have the honor. I would rather choose a Hufflepuff than appoint a Malfoy!"

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore gently replied, "Do not be so condescending of your own House."

"This is not about my House!" he cried. "How could you? After all that that brat has done-to you no less! He cannot be trusted! He's the most spoiled, insensitive little fool that was ever a Slytherin!"

Dumbledore let him fume and then raised his hand in polite silence.

"I am aware, Severus, of the extent of the boy's crimes, but I am also aware of the circumstances that forced those deeds on him. If you remember, he did not succeed in taking my life-"

"He raised his wand against you-"

"Because there were four others pointed at him. Severus-," Dumbledore pinned him with his blue gaze, "-the boy needs help. He has lost, perhaps, more than anyone else in the war." Snape opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore cut in before he could.

"There are worse things to lose than your life or that of a loved one, Severus. Lucious, as you well know, is in Azkaban and he may very well receive the Kiss. Narcissa Malfoy, from what certain intelligence reported, has left the country. I doubt she will ever return again. Draco has been left to fight the demons alone-"

"But this does not explain why that boy should be bestowed with such an honor," Snape evenly questioned.

But of course, Dumbledore had an answer ready. "To help him-," he simply said, "-to redeem himself. Draco Malfoy has always harbored tremendous pride, although that pride was wrongly channeled. He is an intelligent boy, you witnessed it yourself in what he accomplished-"

"Letting Death Eaters into the castle to slaughter innocents is hardly considered an _accomplishment. _It's murder-"

"I am sure he was aware of the consequences, even at that time," Dumbledore quietly replied. "Guilt is a fickle friend, Severus. But I am only referring to the fact that he was able to manipulate the strong magic that surrounds the castle and restore a long lost vanishing cabinet to its original use. This is not something he was taught in school, as I'm sure you know."

"Dark magic," Snape muttered and Dumbledore nodded.

"The boy has enormous potential, but he needs guidance-the right kind of guidance. Otherwise, I am afraid we will lose him again and this time, I do not doubt he will be lost forever."

They were silent for a time, before Snape said, "You wish me to watch over him."

"If only as a figurehead," Dumbledore replied. "You have watched over Harry all this time, but he has others in his life who embrace him. Draco Malfoy, you must have noticed, has not only incurred his House's wrath, but his own family has disintegrated. I'm just afraid, Severus, that the boy will do something drastic." He looked thoughtful then. "I am aware that I have made this mistake of neglecting him once and the consequences, as you saw, were brutal. He needed help then and he needs help now. I suppose, the wise thing would be to not tempt the Fates a second time."

And Severus Snape bowed his head in silent defeat. "I suppose…"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_"Loneliness, the clearest of crystal insight into your own soul-it's the fear of one's own self that haunts the lonely."_

_-Keith Haynie_****

* * *

The rest of the week flew by in a fog for Draco. He established a painfully slow routine of waking up and battling the pain that flooded over him each morning before he dragged himself to the shower and spent a good half hour under the pain-numbing hot water.

In lectures, he was hard pressed to stay awake. More than once he fell asleep-in Potions of all classes -and earned a detention in Transfigurations. To top it off, there was talk of removing him from the Quidditch team. He wasn't too shocked to hear the news, but he had held some hope that perhaps they would keep him because he made a quick Seeker.

That hope was quickly dashed when Blaise and Vaisey cornered him in the hallway one evening and told him not to bother trying out because the new Seeker had already been chosen. Secretly, Draco was glad he wouldn't have to endure them on the pitch because with the way his body was right now, he doubted it would cooperate in anything that physical. He'd be lucky not to get clobbered by a bludger each time he took to air.

Granger and he continued to be distant. She hadn't spoken a word to him since on the train and he hadn't bothered seeking her attention. Whenever they were in the dorms together, she always locked herself in her room, shutting him out completely. Sometimes, he wished she would talk to him. It was lonely not having anyone to talk to.

But Draco would rather battle a dragon than admit he'd been a jerk and initiate conversation first. He still had some pride left and he was damned to keep it. When he wasn't fighting lethargy, nursing a terrible headache, or doing homework, Draco poured over the Prefect charts, taking care of his new duties. He had to keep tab of their daily patrols and arrange their schedules accordingly each week.

Sometimes, he had to supervise detention for the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and endure the whispers that followed him maliciously everywhere he went. He was just surprised he hadn't been cursed or hexed yet.

By the end of the first week, it was very clear to Draco that no one-and he knew _no one- _gave a knut about him! He was completely and utterly alone and 'friendless' for the first time in his entire life. At first, it was very depressing and daunting.

No one wanted to sit beside him in classes where they had to partner up. He had just taken to doing his Potions and Astronomy work alone. He wondered if he would die of embarrassment, but the more he spent time alone, the more he became used to the lonely void.

He didn't care anymore if people gawked at him, laughing behind his back. He didn't care if his things went missing only to turn up in odd places, mangled and ruined. He didn't care if he found cruel cartoons of his parents' dead bodies and his own ashen face, marked with the Dark Mark under his seat. Draco Malfoy just didn't care-he was already in too much pain for them to add more to.

The only people who remotely gave him space were, surprisingly enough, the Golden Trio, although he'd caught Weasley snickering about his torture once or twice. It wasn't so bad. At least _they _didn't initiate it-but neither did they do anything to stop it.

"Well, it's not like they owe _me _anything," Draco whispered aloud to himself as he sat one gloomy Saturday in the Common Room, his homework strewn across the low coffee table. It was a Hogsmead weekend and, having seen Granger disappear with her buddies this morning, he assumed she wouldn't be back till late evening.

Draco returned his attention to his half done Arithmancy homework and poised his quill over the next question.

_Calculate and analyze the characteristics of a Personality label five. What would you predict would be the Social numbers of this type?_

Draco sighed and pulled _Numerology and Grammatica _into his lap, flipping through the heavy textbook till he came across a page he had marked heavily in red ink. He never liked number five. That was his number.

Squinting, he began to read the chapter for the fifth time. The waning light outside cast shadows on the creased pages. The words swam before his eyes. Frustrated, Draco rubbed his tired eyes and blinked several times before reverting back to the book.

It was no use. The words ran into each other, blending and mixing like blobs of black paint. He had to look away lest he make his headache worse. With an angry sigh, Draco snapped the book shut and chucked it on the floor, eliciting a loud _thud. _

The homework was due in two days and yet he couldn't finish because he was having trouble bloody _reading _a textbook! He had read the book on his own twice before, yet he couldn't seem to remember the information he'd already processed!

"Merlin I'm getting old," he muttered, flopping onto the cushion and staring wistfully at the blurred ceiling.

His eyes fluttered momentarily before falling shut. These days, he never could stay awake for long.

* * *

Draco didn't know for how long he slept, but it was late evening when voices reached him. He pushed himself up just as the portrait door swung open and, who else but the Golden Trio stomped in, laughing and talking loudly.

They froze when they saw him. Apparently he wasn't expected to be around in his own dorm. Granger was the first to snap out.

"H-hello, Malfoy," she nervously greeted as she unwound the long scarf around her neck.

Draco didn't bother to reply. He was trying to make out their blurred faces.

"Well, I guess I'll go change quickly and then we can have dinner," she stammered to her friends, sending a pointed look to Ron who was more than displeased with the whole situation. He _did not _want to be alone with Ferret. He didn't think he could keep his hands from strangling him if Malfoy dared provoke him.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to sense his mood and steered him to the fireplace where they awkwardly stood, waiting for Hermione to return. Draco, who had by now given up on seeing through the fog that was clouding his eyes, realized he wasn't wanted. He didn't care for their company either, but he had to admit: not having spoken a word to anyone in six days was a bit depressing. He wondered whether he should throw some nasty comment just to get a reaction before dropping the idea. There was no way he could defend himself from Weasley's windmill arms if the git decided to punch him.

No, he was better off retreating to his own room till they left. Draco laughed inwardly at his cowardice as he stood, not even bothering to clean his mess. He couldn't believe that _he _of all people was _avoiding _a confrontation with Scarhead instead of instigating it. But then, he had never been alone. Crabbe and Goyle had always backed him up, although they wouldn't have been much use to him if Potter had whipped out his wand.

Draco's stomach sank at the thought of his 'cronies'. He wouldn't see them ever again. Neither had returned to Hogwarts and Draco suspected the worst for them. They had both been Death Eaters, having taken the Mark just after him. The last time he had seen them was in the midst of battle when he'd been trying to get away from the scorching fire.

Draco didn't know how he'd survived the war. If anyone deserved death then, it should have been him. He sighed and shook his head, suddenly realizing that he'd been standing like an idiot all this time. He could feel the Gryffindors' questioning eyes as he hastily made to retreat to his sanctuary.

_Go before they think you're a mental case, Draco, _he chided himself as he neared the stairs. He was about to scamper up when he suddenly froze, hand on the rail. A slow pain was creeping up his spine. His knuckles went white as the needlelike feeling reached a crescendo. With a gasp he sank to his knees, eyes screwed shut.

Behind him, Harry and Ron exchanged a startled glance. _Should they help him?_

When the blonde curled in on himself, whimpering in pain, Harry couldn't ignore him anymore. Refusing to look Ron in the eyes, he marched straight towards his nemesis.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?" he asked, standing over him.

Draco didn't answer-he couldn't answer. The pain was too much! It was everywhere. His every joint, every muscle, every tendon ached and burned. He couldn't move-couldn't speak-_couldn't even think! _

"Ron!" Harry cast his mate an exasperated look.

Ron hesitated for a moment, but then joined Harry, looking down at the curled up, tense blonde at their feet.

"Should we take him to the Hospital Wing?" he sheepishly asked, still not in the least inclined to help Draco.

Harry nodded, but was afraid to touch him. He remembered the night on the train, when Malfoy had cringed in pain at his touch. However much he wanted to pretend he didn't care, he didn't want to add to Malfoy's agony. He couldn't bear to do it a second time.

They were both debating how to get him to the Wing when Hermione caught their attention with a startled cry.

"Ron! You didn't-!" she began, but Harry quickly cut her off before she launched herself at an unsuspecting Ron.

"We didn't do anything Hermione!" he cried, holding up his palms. "He just-well-"

"The wimp just collapsed," Ron explained.

Hermione was watching the blonde now too who hadn't moved an inch since.

"He's in pain," she remarked. "We need to take him to Madam Pomfrey."

Harry whipped out his wand, but before he could levitate him, Hermione blocked his wand with her hand.

"No, Harry! We can't use magic on him."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't how he'll react," she snapped, "You'll have to carry him."

Ron frowned. "I'm not going to _touch _him!"

"Oh don't be childish, Ron! He's not poisonous-"

"He's Malfoy, 'Mione!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and was about to snap back, when Harry said, "I'll do it."

He bent down to scoop his nemesis up while Hermione beamed at him from behind. Ron only scowled. Malfoy wasn't that heavy, but he was still a handful and it didn't help that he tried to push Harry away, however weakly.

"I'm just going to drop you to the Hospital Wing, Malfoy," Harry told him, panting a little from the effort as they walked out the portrait. "Stay put."

But Draco didn't want to stay put. Potter's mere touch was sending sharp pain shooting through him, immobilizing him even though all he wanted to do was scream. He couldn't stand this pain! Merlin, it felt as though his head was about to explode!

Distantly, he heard himself whimpering, a pitiable sound. He could vaguely make out Granger's voice talking to him almost soothingly, although he had no idea what she was saying. He could feel Potter speeding up, clutching him tightly still.

The added pain sent Draco over the threshold and he knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_"Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him."_

_- Albert Schweitzer_

* * *

Malfoy remained unconscious for two whole days. Hermione visited him during lunch and sometimes in the evenings when both Harry and Ron left for Quidditch practice. She didn't tell them she was visiting him of course, partly because even she didn't know why she came. 

Madam Pompfrey had put him up in a ward furthest inside and closest to her office. She'd changed him into the hospital gown and covered him with thick blankets. As surprised as she had been the day they had _carried _Malfoy in, she was even more surprised when Hermione continued to visit him. She didn't question her-only put her actions down to her good heart.

When Hermione showed up in the evening on the second day, she saw no change. He lay as he had for the past day and a half, his hands folded across his stomach and face as serene as though he were in eternal sleep. He looked so peaceful-almost like a child-that Hermione couldn't help but smile just a bit. If only he looked that way all the time instead of that horrible sneer…

She shook her head and sank into the chair by his bed. Pulling out her Transfigurations textbook, she steeled herself to read, but couldn't seem to concentrate. Her eyes kept flicking to the pale face, tracing the straight, pointy features-smooth and soft, as though chiseled from marble.

Sighing, she closed her book and dropped it into her bag, allowing herself to drink in her nemesis' unguarded beauty just this once. Malfoy was a handsome boy-almost a man. He was thin and lean with just the right amount of muscle and a posture worthy of royalty. He stretched taller than Harry, but was a good head shorter than Ron. She was jealous of his blonde hair which looked soft as a rabbit's fur and glinted in the sunlight. His eyes, though closed now, held the most unusual grey colored moons she had ever seen. They were at once stormy, haughty, and thoughtful, shielded under a generous amount of long bronze lashes.

_It should be a crime, _she thought, _to grant someone such good looks when they have a heart of stone. He doesn't deserve it._

So thinking, Hermione made to pick up her bag, intending to leave, when the tiniest movement caught her eye. Malfoy's eyes were moving beneath the lids. His fingers twitched as he came to, eyes slowly opening and closing as though still reluctant to greet the waking world.

"Malfoy?" Hermione cautiously whispered.

His eyes fell on her for the briefest moment before he averted her gaze. She seemed to sense his discomfort for she left him without a word in search of the nurse. Draco wondered what Granger of all people was doing by his sick bed. He knew he was in the hospital wing, but had no idea how long he had been there. They'd gotten rid of his robes, dressing him in those hideous hospital gowns he'd never had the misfortune to wear until now.

He straightened up, frowning when he felt his muscles stiffer than ever. The intense pain had gone at least, although the dull throbbing never seemed to cease.

"Mr. Malfoy awake, are we?" Madam Pompfrey remarked, bustling to his side. Granger followed in her wake, but remained behind as the nurse fussed over him, checking his temperature and casting several diagnostic spells that made his skin glow in different colors.

"Hm…nothing seems to be wrong with you," the nurse remarked, tucking her wand back in her robes. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I-" Draco cast a glance at Granger, who didn't take the cue to leave at all. "I…was in pain," he finished lamely, looking down at his hands and averting the medi-witche's concerned gaze.

"In pain?" she prodded. "What kind of pain?"

He shrugged. "I suddenly hurt all over and couldn't move."

"Perhaps its muscle cramps-happens to the best of us when the weather turns cold. I'll give you a pain potion for now. They'll stop soon enough-" and she handed him a small glass vial as she spoke. "You can go now, I suppose. Your robes are on the side table."

She pulled the curtains, giving him privacy to change. Draco sighed, inwardly cursing his cowardice. He could have just told her, but really, would she have believed him? Eager to leave the uncomfortable bed, he donned his own robes and, tucking the vial in his pocket, threw the curtains aside only to confront Granger again. The bushy haired witch hadn't left her spot.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he hissed as he slipped into his shoes.

"Waiting," she swiftly replied, picking up her bag.

"If anyone sees us leave together, they'll-"

"Think it perfectly normal as we are both Heads and expected to work together," she finished. "Besides, I want to know why you lied-"

"I did not-" but a pointed glare from her made him swallow his words. She reminded him strangely of his mother when she looked so stern. "I just…didn't tell her the whole truth."

"And I want to know why."

"Why do you care anyways?" Draco retorted, growing frustrated with her insistence as he got to his feet. She followed him out the door, easily keeping up with his long strides.

"I don't _care _really, but I need to know what to do if you're going to keep fainting like that-"

"I did not faint!" he glowered, "And I don't need you to mother me! In case you haven't noticed Granger, I don't like you-"

"And in case _you _haven't noticed, we've saved you're life-twice now!" She suddenly intercepted his way, standing directly in front of him, her large brown eyes piercing him angrily. "You need to get over yourself, Malfoy. I don't need you to remind me of our mutual hate, but since we are living together-don't frown, you know we are- and since you don't have anyone else to go to, you might as well tell me so I can help you."

Draco snorted. "Help? Why in the world would you want to help me?"

_Because you need it. _"Because you're too conceited to ask for it!" she shouted.

"Well, I'm not asking for it, am I?" he cried back, not caring that some First years had stopped in surprise to listen. "Who told you to pry into my business?"

"Are you saying we should've just left you there?"

He shrugged. "That's what I would've done. Don't question me Granger and tell your _friends _to keep their noses out of my life."

And before she could retort, he turned heel and fled.

* * *

Hermione was fuming when she went for dinner to the Great Hall. it was four hours since her confrontation with the Head Boy and she couldn't believe the nerve with which he ad told her off and after all she had done to help him!

"What's the matter, 'Mione?" Harry asked as she joined them at the table.

"Yeah you look like you're about to rip someone's head off," Ron put in.

"Some people just don't know how to be grateful!" she cried, slamming her book bag beside her.

Harry and Ron shared a tentative glance guessing, "Malfoy," at the same time.

"The gits awake, is he?" Ron asked, digging into his apple pie with the zeal of a five year old.

"How-how is he?" Harry questioned.

"Alive," came the abrupt answer, "and back to being his usual arrogant self."

"Bet you wished you hadn't helped him," Ron chided, not daring to add "I told you so" because of the angry glare sent his way.

"I happen not to be like him, Ron, and I know how to be compassionate when someone needs help."

"But obviously he doesn't need it anymore if he keeps blowing you off."

Hermione didn't retort. Harry was looking lost in between them again and she didn't want to upset him by fighting over _Malfoy _of all people.

"Well anyways, I don't think I'll bother worrying about him anymore. _Some _people really are so _rude!" _and she attacked her pudding with such zest that Harry, who was about to question why she bothered worrying in the first place, promptly swallowed his words. He did not want to be on the receiving end of that spoon.

Thankfully, Ginny joined them at that moment, complaining about the weather and the upcoming Quidditch match, effectively distracting their thoughts from their enemy. Half way through the conversation, Hermione lost interest and pulled out the first textbook she grabbed: Ancient Runes.

She frowned, remembering Malfoy's text that she had read on the train. She was still meaning to ask him about the Runes, but, being on less than friendly terms, decided not to bother at all. He would more likely bite her head off than answer any question _she _had.

She suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore. She had had a tough day-these days, her Head Girl duties and studies took more time and energy than cared to spare. Other than that Hogsmead visit the first week, she hadn't done any other socializing. But of course, she didn't mind. She rather preferred it that way. Duties were more important than frivolities after all and Hermione had never minded the solitude.

Excusing herself, she decided to retire to the dorm. There was homework awaiting her.

* * *

Draco was rolling up a freshly finished Prefect chart when he heard Granger coming up the stairs. _So she didn't stay for the whole meal, _he thought. _Wonder if she fought with Potty and Weasel._

He heard her humming to herself softly and frowned, deciding that if Granger was in a good enough mood to put up with her horribly off tune song, then she must be feeling tolerable. But why did he care? Whisking away the parchment, Draco locked himself in his bathroom, intending to take a long shower to soothe his sore muscles.

He was tired again, but not unbearably so. Drinking peppermint tea had helped and the pain potion Madam Pompfrey had given him was actually doing wonders. He wasn't completely free of the ache of course-it was always there, but at least the pins and needle feeling was gone, and he wasn't wincing every time he lifted something or climbed stairs.

Nothing worked like hot water, though. He could really do with a massage.

Draco generously poured a bottle of scented lavender oil in the tub full of steaming water before easing himself. An unconscious sigh escaped him. He could sit in here all day if only time allowed. Leaning his head on the edge of the tub, he briefly closed his eyes, letting his muscles unwind and finally relax somewhat.

Three weeks. It had only been three weeks since the start of term. How long more could he put up with the demanding schedule? In between his Head duties, attending classes, and finishing homework, Draco barely had time to relax. He was sleeping poorly because the pain kept him awake most of the night, and because of that he was incredibly tired throughout the day. Draco couldn't even remember what it felt like to be fully awake anymore.

And then there was his memory. It was tricking him again. Yesterday he couldn't find his way to the dungeons, strangely enough, and today he completely forgot the password to the dorm. Belladona took pity on him at the last minute and let him in.

He rubbed his head tiredly. It was throbbing again. This was, he reasoned, the fourth headache he'd had that day. _That makes a total of 28 headaches a week and…about 120 per month! Augh! Stop thinking Draco!_

He dipped his head under water and emerged a minute later, coughing and sputtering. His ribs began to protest and soon enough, whatever comfort the warm water had given him was replaced by burning pain.

"Not again!" he moaned, sinking deeper into the water and closing his eyes. His headache was getting worse and his chest suddenly felt tight.

_I need to get out, _he thought and clumsily got to his feet. He sloshed out the tub and reached for the towel, stumbling into the wall when a sudden dizzy spell brought him to his knees. He gasped. That familiar pain was itching up his spine again.

"No…Merlin!" he groaned, curling in on himself. The burning sensation turned into blinding pain and he closed his eyes tight as colors exploded in his mind's eyes. He was frozen, unable to call for help or even scream.

_Fuck! _he thought, _if this is my punishment for being alive, I'd rather never have lived at all._

* * *

Hermione distinctly remembered going to bed at midnight, tired and ready to collapse, but she found she couldn't sleep at all. She lay tossing and turning, shrugging the covers off one moment and pulling them back over another.

Finally giving up, she slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers and, grabbing her Herboloy textbook off the table, tramped down the stairs, hoping to let the fire lull her to sleep. When she reached the Common Room however, she found someone else had the same idea.

Malfoy was curled on the sofa in front of the fire, wrapped in what she assumed was a long, velvet bathrobe. His hair looked wet and a bit mussed. He lay on his side, staring unblinkingly into the fire, lost deep in thought.

"Can't sleep?" she asked as she sat across from him.

His eyes flicked lazily onto her before returning back to the fire. He didn't even move.

"I couldn't either," she finished and, propping the heavy textbook in her lap, soon immersed herself in its depths.

She became aware of his eyes after a time, watching her steadily, almost dreamily. He looked exhausted and his eyes seemed to droop a bit only pop open again, as though he was afraid to fall asleep.

"Granger," he suddenly called, his voice hoarse.

"Hm?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Can I ask you something?"

She cocked her head and nodded.

"You'll have to promise that whatever I say won't leave these walls."

Of course, he had a catch. He was a Slytherin after all. "Fine. I promise."

"Good." He licked his lips, suddenly looking nervous. "Do you-do you think it strange if someone's in pain all the time?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected such a question at all, but he seemed completely serious and was waiting for her reply with tense eyes.

"Well, it depends whether the pain is physical or-"

"It's physical," he cut in.

She nodded. "Then yes, I suppose it is strange. Pain is a way for our body to let us know that something is wrong."

He muttered something that she didn't quite catch and fell silent, turning his gaze back to the fire. Hermione tried to go back to her reading, but couldn't now that her curiosity was peaked.

"Why do you ask?" she questioned.

He shrugged. "I…don't know."

"Liar." She snapped her book shut and straightened in her chair. "You do know, but you're scared to admit it. You're in pain all the time, aren't you? I've seen you, wincing whenever you're walking up the stairs or picking up your book bag. And then that day when you-" she was about to say fainted, but knew he wouldn't appreciate it. He was glowering at her, his silver eyes glinting coldly in the golden firelight.

"Well since you know so much, you don't suppose you can tell me what to do about it, can you?" he sneered.

"Tell Madam Pompfrey!" she cried as though it were obvious. "You need her help, Malfoy. Something is clearly wrong with your health-"

"I'm fine-"

"Yes, we all know _fine _people writhe on the floor in agony every day!"

"I can't go to her!" he cried.

"Why not?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Tell me Granger, if I came to you asking for help, would you help me? There's no one in this place who cares, expected I know, and I don't care to get my hopes up. I know when I'm not wanted, Granger, and that _nurse _is more likely to poison than cure me, if you get my drift."

"She wouldn't do that," Hermione quietly replied. "She's a school nurse-"

"She treats students, Granger, not Death Eaters."

She didn't know what more to say to convince him. As much as she knew Madam Pompfrey would help him no matter what, she was also aware that Draco Malfoy was not in any one's good book at the moment. Certainly he hadn't been in her's…until now.

"I'd help you, you know," she said.

His eyes narrowed just a bit before a lop-sided smirk painted his lips. "And why would you want to do that, Granger? I thought you'd be the first to rejoice if I die-"

"No!" she cried, horrified that he should think so. "No one wants you to die Dra-Malfoy!"

He ignored her little slip for now and sneered, "Oh really? My, how could I have missed how much people seem to enjoy my presence in the death glares they send me! How very _stupid _of me!"

Hermione chose not to let his sarcasm get to her. "You've never been particularly charming, Malfoy."

"I never aimed to be," he simply replied and eased himself up to a sitting position. He sat still for a time, blinking a bit as though to clear his head, before getting comfortable again. "Look I…I guess it's _kind _of you to offer your help, but I really don't need it. _If you can do something _though_, _do you think you could-you could get me a pain potion from Pompfrey?" And he looked at her with anxious eyes, eyes that seemed almost desperate.

"It won't cure you-"

"I know that!" he snapped, "But I-fuck! Granger you have no idea what it's like being in pain all the time! I feel like a bloody old coot, not being able to move normally or-or falling like that day-"

"It happened again, didn't it?" she cut in, surprising him with how fast she caught on.

He shrugged, but decided it was pointless to lie to her, and gave her a jerky nod.

"Why don't you_ tell _someone?" she stressed.

"Who?" he met her worried gaze, admiring the way the firelight seemed to dance in her large orbs. "Who'll believe me, Granger? You said yourself this isn't normal. What if they think I've made all this up? What if-what if it _is _all made up and they lock me up as a mental case or-"

"I think that's going a bit too far-" and she couldn't resist an amused smile. She'd never seen Malfoy paranoid. He was acting like a scared child.

He frowned. "Well, I'm glad you find my _insecurity _so amusing, but you wouldn't care to finish that offer of help, would you? Or were you just faking?"

"Are you accepting?"

"I don't have a choice-"

"You always have a choice."

He sighed and rubbed his head. "I don't have time for this, Granger. You know that you'll be the one to lose a lot if you side with me. I've already lost it all. It's not me that should be making the decision-"

"Then the choice is simple isn't it? I'll help you."

He stared at her, incredulity clearly twinkling in his wide eyes. "This is far from a _simple _choice, Granger! Do you _know _what people will say if they-well, if they ever realize you're _friendly _with me? I really don't know how Weaselbee-"

"Ron," Hermione firmly corrected. "You need to call them by names if you want my help. No Weasel, no Scarhead, and certainly not Potty."

"That wasn't in the agreement-"

"I didn't know we had reached one, seeing as you haven't accepted my help yet."

He raised a pale eyebrow, scowling and she, not one to back down, stuck out her chin with a stubborn air. Draco found her pouting suddenly out of character and couldn't help snickering. Hermione, feeling relieved to see him let loose, smiled as well.

"They're not going to like it," he said once they'd calmed. "Potty-" she threw him a glare, but he ignored it, "-you can't expect me to warm up in a day, Granger, and besides they're more likely to die of shock."

"Well, they're going to find out eventually," she pointed out.

"Doubtless, but we still have that time span. I don't fancy being the object of more hate and attention. If I have to act _nice, _then I'll do it behind these walls and nowhere else."

"Fine, although I don't understand why you still want to put that bully façade when clearly you're harmless-"

"I wouldn't put it past me, Granger. You shouldn't underestimate anyone, especially you're enemy."

"But you're not my enemy," she countered, _I don't think you ever were. _

He didn't reply, choosing instead to close his eyes with a wistful sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

Well, I had warned there would be delays. But Finals are almost over!

**Chapter Six**

_"From caring comes courage."_

- _Lao Tzu_

_

* * *

_

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find herself curled in the armchair, a throw she didn't remember bringing wrapped around her shoulders. She was even more surprised to see Draco Malfoy sprawled on the couch across from her still in the velvet bathrobe that seemed to be revealing a little too much for her comfort.

She tried not to stare at his smooth chest or the lean, long legs sticking out haphazardly as she folded the soft throw. He was deeply asleep, his breathing slow and even. He looked like an adorable boy, the way he had looked as he lay in the hospital wing. His bangs fluttered lightly with each breath.

Hermione checked the time and knew she had to get ready soon. She glanced at her nemesis. It didn't seem like he'd be waking anytime soon. Deciding he would be angrier if she _didn't _alert him, Hermione stepped closer and called his name. He didn't even twitch.

A little reluctantly, as though approaching a sleeping dragon, she nudged his bare shoulder, calling his name again. It took a while, but at last he stirred. With a moan he slowly opened his eyes and she found herself staring into his stormy depths. She was admiring the way his grey eyes swirled with barely distinguishable blue flecks when he blinked and suddenly hissed in pain.

"Sore?" she asked when he attempted to push himself up, trying not to whimper in front of her.

"As always," he grumbled, rubbing his neck and yawning. He looked famished.

"Class starts in another two hours. Are you coming?"

He gave her a dubious look. "Why wouldn't I, Granger?"

She frowned. "Well, you look like you're about to-"

"This is how I always look," he snapped, "And don't bug me first thing in the morning. Don't you have anything else to do other than nag?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted that pain potion-" he looked up, wide-eyed, "-but seeing as you've made it clear you don't need my help!" And she made to leave when his voice arrested her.

"Granger," he softly called, "don't-"

"Don't what?" She whirled around to face him only to meet his worn eyes. He looked utterly defeated. Her anger melted somewhat and she approached him once again. "I can ask her if you like, but she won't give me much-"

"However much is fine. Just…will you really?" And he couldn't conceal the plea in his wavering voice.

Hermione smiled thinly. "As long as you remain civil, Malfoy, I'll help you."

And he, speechless, could only nod.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Hermione stood outside Madam Pompfrey's office, having convinced her with a lie or two. She had lied about cramps because of her monthlies and then lied again about needing one more for a terrible headache. The nurse had been suspicious of course, but being Head Girl and Hermione Granger came with a certain granted trust.

She was sorry to abuse it, but it was for a good cause. Malfoy was really suffering. He couldn't even get off the couch without her help and then he began to sway like a drunk. She had left him on the couch with firm instructions to stay put while she hurriedly changed and rushed to the infirmary. She wasn't planning on being late to classes because of him.

When she returned to the Common Room fifteen minutes later, she found him in the same exact spot she'd left him in. He was dozing, but hearing her footsteps he jerked awake, looking at her expectantly.

"Did you get them?" he asked.

"Yes, but only two," she replied, handing him the small vials which he took with immense relief.

"I don't know how you did it, Granger, but you're a lifesaver," he praised by way of thanks as he uncorked a vial and drained half the liquid in one gulp. Making a face, he swallowed the thick potion. "Couldn't give you a flavored one, could she?"

"How long will they last?" she asked as he tentatively tested his limbs.

"Hopefully a week…I don't know, though. It depends on the pain." When his limbs ceased their protest, he stretched lazily and gave her a weak smile. "You might want to come up with a few more lies when you have time."

She frowned, but couldn't get herself to spoil his mood. She hadn't seen him so relaxed in-well in _months. _"They have side effects you know-"

"I know. Nausea, dizziness, loss of appetite," he ticked off on his long fingers. "It beats being in agony all the time. I can handle it." He straightened his bath robe as he stood and met her eyes briefly. "Oh, it's ten minutes till first class, by the way. Might want to hurry."

Hermione checked the time and gasped, fleeing up the stairs to get her bag. When she came running down, he was still there, poking the fire.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"In a while. I have to let the potion settle."

She nodded, knowing that he really didn't need to attend Potions anyways. Everyone knew it was his best subject.

"Well, see you then."

He smirked. "_See you, _Granger_."_

* * *

_That wasn't so bad, _she thought as she joined Harry and Ron outside the Potions class room. _Malfoy can be civil when he wants to._

"Why weren't you at breakfast, Hermione?" Harry asked as they took the table furthest in the back.

She debated for a second whether to tell the truth, but decided she might as well. There was no point in adding to her lies. "I went to get pain potions for Malfoy."

Ron's jaw dropped. "For _Malfoy? _Blimey, 'Mione, is he_ using _you as a slave? Because of he is-" and he began to roll up his sleeves, "-Harry and I'll hex him into bloody-"

"Ronald!" she cut in before he could add more colorful insults from his vocabulary. Snape had come in and she didn't fancy the bat overhearing. "He was pretty civil about it and he didn't make me. I volunteered."

Harry raised an eyebrow as if to say _Really?_

And she glared him into silence. "He was in a lot of pain, actually, and he seemed grateful-"

"Still didn't thank you, did he?" Ron snorted.

"Well, Malfoy's never really had a heart," Harry replied, ending any arguments that might have ensued.

* * *

It wasn't until Herbology, their third class, that Malfoy made an appearance. He looked neater than he had in weeks, his face much more relaxed, although his eyes were as guarded as ever. He took the table he had manned by himself since the beginning of the term, staring at the strange plant they would be dealing with that day.

"Alright class," Professor Sprout bustled in, pulling on thick gloves as she began her lecture. "Now, can anyone tell me what this plant is called?"

Everyone stared at the huge, purplish plant with a long black stem sticking out of its large petal. Of course, it was Hermione who answered when no one did.

"It's called _draculas vulgarius, _the Dragon Flower."

"Very good, Ms. Granger," Sprout smiled, "Five points to Gryffindor. And what are its properties?"

No one even to bothered to think as Granger's mouth flew open before anyone even had time to blink.

"It produces a venom that acts like a numbing potion and lures beetles with its scent for survival."

"Well done again! Ten points to Gryffindor."

And on they went with the lecture. Draco dozed as he listened, half his mind far away. He wasn't in too much pain now, but the exhaustion had still managed to creep up on him. Vaguely, he wondered if he could convince Granger to get a stronger dose of peppermint tea for him…or maybe honeyed milk. His mother always said milk and honey relaxed the muscles, and if the tight knots in his shoulders and back were any indication, he needed to do some major relaxing.

"Mr. Malfoy, you cannot possibly handle the plant by yourself. Pair up now," Sprout ordered before bustling over to assist Longbottom and Finnigan who were wrestling with the plant's long tentacles.

Draco frowned after her. He had done things by himself so far, hadn't he? And who did she expect him to partner up with anyways? Half the students were already turning their backs on him, while the other half glared at him openly, as though daring him to ask them. He rolled his eyes and picked up the glass vial they were supposed to collect the venom in.

Draco had never been particular about following directions and he wasn't about to start now. He studied the six foot tall plant before him, wondering how he was going to avoid the five long tentacles if he was to extract the venom from the stem.

"You've got to feed them." The sudden voice behind him almost made him yelp in surprise.

"Granger!" he whipped around to stare at her wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, aware that several eyes were on them, just as shocked as he.

"Helping you," she replied. "You'll get tangled and bitten before you can get any venom."

"I don't need your help!" he spat, although his voice quivered as he saw the pin like teeth that graced the tips of the tentacles.

"Well I need to learn and there's no one else in the room without a partner," she snapped back. "Now, I'll feed it while you extract the venom."

And without waiting for his response, she scooped a handful of dead beetles from the large jar sitting in the middle of the room. He watched her with a scowl as she successfully lured each tentacle toward her, tempting them with the handful of beetles, and left a clear path for him to do his job.

Well, _he _wasn't about to slow her down. Uncorking the bottle, Draco reached up and stroked the long stem, coaxing black liquid to stream into the bottle. By the time he finished, Granger had run out of beetles and he had to scramble away from the tentacles as they shot towards him.

"Couldn't give me a warning, could you?" he panted angrily.

"S-sorry," she stuttered as her frightened features smoothed.

"Take it." He thrust the full vial in her arms and sulked back to his table.

She watched him tentatively over her shoulder as she labeled the vial with their names and placed them on the rack. He was rubbing his forehead, his face pale.

"You're done already?" Ron gawked when she returned to their table. Harry was nursing his hand, covered in blue ointment where the tentacle had stung him like so many other students.

"Oh, Ronald you've got to _feed _it, not attack it!" she absently cried, noticing their drawn wands. "_Don't you two read?" _

They both sensibly remained silent and Harry scrambled to grab the remaining dead beetles as several other students clambered over, having heard her advice. Hermione studied the questions they were to answer as part of their assignment and glanced at Malfoy again. He was cradling his head, staring at the paper and squinting.

Frowning and muttering about "boys and their lousy pride," she gathered her things and joined him at the table without a word. If anyone noticed, they wisely kept silent.

Draco was too engrossed in trying to decipher the writing on the paper to feel her presence until she cleared her throat.

"Do you need help?" she asked, pointing at his blank parchment.

"No," he huffed without thinking.

"Well, this is supposed to be a partner project and seeing as we have to turn the assignment in with both our names on it in-" she checked her watch, "-less than ten minutes, I think it'll be faster to work together."

"Fine!" he scowled. "Read the first question."

She looked at him funny, but Draco only raised his eyebrow, prodding her on. He couldn't very well tell her that he was having trouble reading because the letters were weaving together in a blurred mess again. She wouldn't believe him anyway.

Hermione thought his request odd, but then, he had never been normal. Maybe he was just tired-or in pain-again. She wanted to spare him the trouble, whatever it was, and so read the question out loud. They pondered the answer together and Hermione wrote it down before moving on to the next question.

They finished by the bell and Draco watched the other students, a bit amused, as they groaned and rushed to answer the remaining questions. Granger handed the professor their paper and returned to pick up her bag.

He watched her as she gathered her things and dumped them inside before brushing her hair out of the way and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She was so…not like a girl, he lamely finished. But there was something about her that suddenly…_no Draco! _You forget who you are-but she had helped him, against her better judgment.

"Granger," he called just as he bent down to hoist his bag. She looked at him pointedly, frowning as though expecting some rude remark.

But he surprised her with a rare smile of his own. "Thanks."

And before she could reel over her shock, he tramped out the trickling classroom, feeling that perhaps it was time he went against _his _better judgment.


	7. Chapter 7

**My Finals are done! _Yay!_**

**Chapter 7**

_"Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live."  
_

_- Charles Caleb Colton (English essayist)_

* * *

"He actually thanked me!" Hermione cried for the fifth time and was met with the same remark and rolling eyes,

"We heard you, 'Mione," Harry and Ron both chanted.

"But-but it's _Malfoy! At least now_ do you believe he's changed?"

Harry kept silent, glancing at Ron. They were in the library and he didn't fancy a shouting match, but Ron didn't take the cue.

"So he thanked you one time-that doesn't change a lifetime of criminal activity-"

"He is not a criminal!"

"He let the bloody Death Eaters in! He's worse than a criminal! He's a-"

But at that moment, Harry jammed his foot in Ron's shin, steering him away from what he was saying.

"Ow! What in the bloody blazes…!" Ron cried, but trailed off when he saw the reason. Malfoy was glaring at them a table down, his face almost ashen and eyes as cold as ice. "Oh. You reckon he heard us?"

"He can still hear you," Harry whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the stormy grey ones. He was locked in an intense staring contest and he would be damned if he let his nemesis win.

Hermione rolled her eyes at their childlessness and disappeared behind her Transfigurations textbook. She was sitting beside Harry so she had a view of the blonde and couldn't help but peek from time to time over her page. At last, after what seemed like minutes, Malfoy dropped his gaze and Harry smiled triumphantly, removing his glasses to wipe away his watering eyes.

"He's running away, mate," Ron snickered when Malfoy trudged past them, tripping over his long robes in a haste to get away.

Harry couldn't help but laugh although he knew it would damage his nemesis' pride. Hermione sighed, annoyed, and hissed at them to shut up. She wished they would leave Malfoy alone.

* * *

Their laughter followed him like the Devil's taunt as he scrambled out the door. How much more humiliation could he stand? He wished for once he were invisible…or better yet, that he had never existed.

Sighing, Draco slowed down and ran a trembling hand through his blonde locks. It was a cold, October Sunday-the sky cloudy and smelling of rain. He pulled his bag higher over his shoulder and trudged through the dew covered grass towards the lake.

There were no students out and he couldn't find a better place to be alone. It was dreadfully gloomy and the wind whipped his robes about, covering his rosy skin with nippy bites. He sniffed and plopped down on the lake's bank, hugging the robe tighter round him for warmth.

He watched the breeze create ripples in the clear water, wondering what it would feel like to immerse in those icy depths. After a time, his shivering stopped and he felt numb all over. Draco stood and kicked off his shoes. He peeled off his socks and unfastening his cloak, dumped it along with his sweater on the wet ground.

Tentatively, he walked down the slippery bank and crouched by the lakeside. He dipped his hand in the water and gasped. It was deadly cold! A slow grin spread up his lips.

_It's cold enough to kill, _he thought, _Perfect._

Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped into the water, pausing every once in a while to let his body adjust to the frigid temperature till he was waist deep in. He dropped his hands, creating a splash, and stood statue still, gazing out at the expanding horizon. Birds dotted the murky skies and he could trace green mountains in the distance.

_I never knew this place was so beautiful, _he thought, unconsciously wading deeper till the water lapped at his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the wind play with his hair for a bit, before taking a breath and plunging below the surface.

His throat constricted from the force of the icy water and he almost choked when the pressure hit him. Bubbles rushed out of his mouth and he tried to claw his way back up, but his limbs were too heavy.

With blurry eyes, he watched the light on the surface as it began to fade. He knew he was drowning, but he didn't care. Closing his eyes, he let the air leave him and welcomed the water as it began to fill his lungs. He felt heavy-he wanted to sleep forever. He _longed _to sleep forever.

Vaguely, he felt a pressure on his right arm. Something was tugging him, disturbing his peace. He tried to fight it, but a blast of ice suddenly washed over him and he gasped.

Coughing and spluttering Draco turned on his side and vomited a puddle of murky water.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Someone shouted loud enough to deafen him. "YOU COULD'VE FUCKIN' DIED!"

Draco, still coughing, sagged on the ground, shivering uncontrollably as the cold wind washed over him. It had been a stupid idea, he knew, and he didn't need anyone, least of all Blaise Zabini, to tell him that he could have killed himself. The way things were going, he was sorry he hadn't died.

With difficulty, Draco pushed himself up and hugged his knees, curling into a ball like a hedgehog to hide his chattering teeth and blue lips.

"Fuck!" His savior cursed and sank to his knees beside him, unfastening his own cloak and winding it about his House mate. "We need to go to Pompfrey. Get up, Draco."

Draco struggled to his feet and felt strong arms catch him when he stumbled.

"Shit! You've done it this time," Blaise rambled as he walked the shivering, dripping, pale blonde across the lawn and up the steps.

By the time they reached the Wing, he all but carried his semi-conscious friend inside. Now, Madam Pomfrey was hard to surprise, having come across plenty of strange scenarios in her long career, but seeing Malfoy for the second time that week was enough to shock anyone. The whole school knew what a drama queen Malfoy was, but no one, not even Malfoy, would willingly land himself in the hospital wing.

"Oh, not you again!" Pompfrey greeted, lending Zabini a hand. Draco found himself whisked behind a curtain and magically draped in the uncomfortably thin, but dry gown again. He still couldn't stop chattering even after Pompfrey spelled his hair dry and made him down a testily hot pepper up potion. "Another one then," she tutted, handing him a larger mug of the red potion and casting stronger warming spells.

Ten minutes later, Draco lay still on the bed, his shivering gone and cheeks flushed with fever.

_It's just one thing after another, _he wearily thought as the ward doors crashed open and his Head of House floated in, looking grimmer than ever. Zabini followed on his heels and Draco thought he saw him sigh in relief when their eyes briefly met.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus Snape asked as he loomed over his bed.

Draco shrugged. "I…fell in the lake," he lied and was of course caught. Malfoy charms were not enough to fool Snape's sharp intellect.

"With your clothes off?" He raised a languid eyebrow and turned to Zabini who still hadn't removed his gaze from the Slytherin on the bed. "I believe you've done enough, Mr. Zabini. You may leave."

Blaise nodded and with one last glance, stalked out the room. Draco watched him go, wondering why it had to be Blaise of all people who caught him trying to kill himself. He couldn't dwell on his recent embarrassment for long however as Pompfrey bustled over and made him drink a nasty brew for his fever. All the while, Snape glowered at him like an overgrown bat and resumed his curt questions as soon as he was the least bit comfortable again.

"Will you care to explain?" he smoothly coerced.

Draco found the slight tone of impatience in his voice disturbing. If he was such a waste of time and a hassle, why bother pretending to care?

With a sigh, he straightened a bit and began. "I was practicing spells for Charms when my textbook fell in the water-I guess I was sitting too close to the edge. So I took off my clothes, um, partially, and waded in after the book. I didn't think it would be so cold, but when I dived in, the water knocked the breath out of me and, well I almost drowned until Blai-uh-Zabini…found me."

He dropped his gaze and studied the pattern on his gown while Snape scrutinized him with distrustful eyes. It was a good lie. His textbook _had_ been thrown in the lake two days ago by vengeful Gryffindors and if Snape wished to examine it for proof, he could still trace the residue from the murky water that the cleaning spell Draco cast hadn't managed to eradicate.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Snape cast his verdict. "Detention-with me at ten as soon as you recover from your…_tomfoolery." _And with a stern look that made Draco erase whatever thoughts he had been having about unfairness, Snape removed himself from the room with a sweep of his flowing robes.

_Great, _groaned Draco as he sank further into the cushions, weariness creeping over him like a long missed companion. _Now I've lost the one person I thought I could trust. _

Was there no one who would help him simply for who _he _was and not whom he had become?

* * *

Hermione found the meeting room in a chaos when she came back from her break. The meeting room, a wide circular, cozy little place that was located down a hidden corridor behind an armored knight, was the place granted to the Prefects and Heads to use to conduct business.

Fridays were scheduled meetings and usually it was then that they planned out coming events, discussed issues, and handed out the new schedules. Today however, the Prefects gathered had only one topic on their mind and they assaulted Hermione as soon as she entered the door.

"He's not here _again, _is he?" Parvati Patil, whom Hermione had appointed as her Vice President, frowned.

"He wasn't here last Friday either," added a Ravenclaw boy. "Honestly, if he's not up to it, why doesn't he just resign?" And heads nodded in all direction, although the Slytherins kept their opinions to themselves. They may not trust their Head Boy, but they placed even less trust in those from other Houses.

Hermione dumped her heavy bag and arm full of books in the nearest chair before facing them. "You can't just resign from being a Head Boy or a Prefect," she reminded them, "And if he weren't qualified, Dumbledore would never have appointed him in the first place-"

"Oh, we all know how _qualified _he is!" spat Ernie McMillan. "Letting Death Eaters in and playing with the Dark Lord really qualifies him to lead us! Why the hell should we listen to him anyways? He's just a obnoxious prat whose used to getting his way and he's as rude as ever. You'd think the war would have taught him a thing or two but I don't-"

"Shut your trap, McMillan," Zabini suddenly cut in, fixing him with a glare that could kill.

For a moment, Ernie didn't know what to say and everyone gaped at Zabini-no one had defended Malfoy after all- but before Ernie could recover, Hermione stepped in.

"Look, I know he hasn't been very…_responsible, _but he isn't slacking. He finished his charts last week and the reason he didn't attend was because he was in the hospital."

"Then why isn't he here today?" Parvati noted and Hermione shrugged.

She glanced at her watch: he was fifteen minutes late. Worriedly she bit her lip. What if he was in pain again and couldn't move?

"Maybe I should go look-" she began, but Zabini interrupted.

"He's in the Hospital Wing."

"_Again?" _Ernie cried.

"Yes, McMillan, _again, _and before you ask me whether I'm lying, let me tell you I escorted him there myself. He's down with fever and will probably have to stay the night." The last bit was directed at Hermione with narrowed eyes. She knew he suspected she knew something.

"Well," Hermione cleared her throat. "Now that we know why he isn't here, let's get on, shall we?" She was a busy girl after all.

* * *

Hermione watched the others clear out the meeting room an hour later and wasn't surprised when Zabini suddenly confronted her, his eyes intense in their hazel depths.

"Did you know about this?" he all but snarled.

Hermione started. She'd supposed he would question her, but not in such a direct way and certainly not with such vehemence.

"Know about what?" she cautiously asked, looking puzzled.

He stared at her for the longest time before sighing. "I guess you wouldn't…Draco isn't very easy to read after all. Still, I think you should know."

"Know what-"

"Draco tried to kill himself," he blurted as though afraid the words would get stuck in his throat otherwise.

Hermione sputtered, "Wh-what?"

"Sh! You can't tell anyone-he obviously wouldn't like it and his name's tainted as it is. We don't want to give anyone more ammunition than necessary to pelt at him when he's clearly…_not himself." _He'd thought of a few words: delicate, vulnerable, troubled…but they were so unbecoming of the Draco Malfoy he had always known that he couldn't bring himself to utter them.

Now it was Hermione's turn to look suspicious. She reasoned Zabini was telling the truth because he had defended Malfoy, hadn't he? But she couldn't put anything past a sniveling Slytherin.

"And why do _you _want to help him so suddenly?" she asked. "You've been doing a pretty good job ignoring him since term started. I can't imagine why you'd care whether he killed himself or not."

Zabini paled visibly at that, but hid his discomfort well. With tight lips he replied, "I was only doing what was expected of me-"

"And I suppose leaving a friend hanging is alright with you?" she chided, hands on hips.

"Don't make me explain Slytherin politics to you-you wouldn't understand. Draco knows-he understands-and I know he didn't expect anything less-"

"So you let him down? You thought it was alright to turn your back on him because he couldn't expect more? Isn't that just sad? You call yourself his friend yet you refuse to help him! Don't you think your little _act _has forced him to such desperate measures?"

"Are you saying it's _my _fault he's in there?" Zabini spat.

Hermione did a double take as Zabini took a step towards her, his eyes blazing with unconcealed anger.

"No…I'm not saying it's your fault alone, but I know all this isolation must have contributed to…whatever happened. What exactly did happen?"

Zabini hesitated, but realizing Hermione was probably the only one who could best help Draco since she was living with him after all, he relented. "I was strolling across the lawn when I saw him crouching by the lake. I've seen him down there often, so I didn't think anything of it until he started removing his clothes. Then he waded in the water and stood statue still. Before I knew what he was doing however, he plunged in and when he didn't surface for a time, I dove after him."

She nodded, looking very grave. "Why are you intent on helping him?" he suddenly asked. "After all he's put you through, you can't _possibly-"_

_"_He's changed," she simply replied. "And I think after the war, he's paid in plenty. Everyone deserves a second chance, even Dra-Malfoy."

Zabini blinked, then a slow smile crept up his lips. "After a time, he wouldn't mind if you call him that, you know. He's always been a bit jealous of your close knit House."

Hermione dropped her eyes and hurriedly gathered her things. "Well, if we're done chatting, I really need to get to work." And she made to leave, but suddenly faced him again, "Oh, and if you do decided to swing by and see him, tell him he needn't worry about the Charts or his duties for the week till he's better. I'll manage somehow."

And with a grateful nod, Zabini saw her off, incredulous that someone could so easily overlook past grudges and help a long time nemesis.

_Maybe he really has changed, _he thought, _And maybe it's time I became more of a friend. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."  
_

_- C. S. Lewis _

_

* * *

_

_I wish she'd given me a pain potion, _Draco thought as he came around from a fever-induced sleep. He still felt tired all over and he couldn't help but sigh wistfully when the dimly lit ceiling came into view.

Slowly, he made to turn to look out the nearby window when his eyes fell on the lonesome figure sitting in the bedside chair. His emerald eyes watched him with an emotion Draco couldn't recognize. Was it pity? Sorrow? Regret?

"Blaise…What are you doing here?" he asked, not even bothering to sit up. He didn't fancy trembling in pain in front of this boy.

Blaise bit his bottom lip, wondering what to say. How does one apologize to a friend he has so easily abandoned?

When he remained silent, Draco took it upon himself to interpret his presence. "Come to see if I'm alive or dead?" he asked, a thin smile gracing his pale lips. "Well, I survived…unfortunately-"

"Don't say that," Blaise cut in.

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Don't say you'd have rather died Draco-how could you?"

Draco frowned. "Give me one good reason why I _shouldn't," _he challenged and watched Blaise squirm in the uncomfortable chair. "I didn't think so-"

"Because there are still people who want you around-who care-"

"Like who? My mother?" And he chuckled mirthlessly. "She doesn't care about me! She left me already, didn't she? Ran away like the coward she is instead of facing the masses." He turned away when bitter tears suddenly pricked his eyes, hoping Blaise didn't see them spring up.

But Blaise didn't need to see them to know. He could see Draco's throat working up and down as he tried to calm down and he suddenly felt ashamed of himself that he had pushed Draco so far away that now he had to hide his true feelings in his presence.

"Draco," he softly called, "I care."

He heard Draco's breath hitch, saw his fingers fist the blanket tightly, as though holding on for dear life. _Now's as good a time as any, _Blaise thought as he took a deep breath and shoved aside his pride.

"I know I've been a jerk to you and I won't bother making any excuses," he began, "But-god Draco! To take your life? What were you thinking? You could've drowned and no one would have known!"

Draco snorted through his tears. "So you're here to lecture me, is that it?" he choked, letting the tears run freely.

"No! I'm here to apologize-"

"Well, you're doing a lousy job of it…"

Blaise suddenly gave a frustrated sigh and grabbed Draco's trembling shoulders, forcing him to face him. He ignored the tears that wrung his heart and the look of pained surprise that flitted across Draco's pale features.

"I'm here to _apologize_," he firmly repeated, "And you're going to hear me out without your sarcastic inputs."

He waited and when Draco slowly nodded, he relaxed his hold, not willingly to let go just yet.

"Look, I know-I know the way I've ignored you is unforgivable…I shouldn't have turned my back on you when you needed me the most. The war's behind us now and I know better than anyone how much you were forced to play your part. I know you never meant to let the Death Eaters in and I know you never wanted to kill anyone…I've been a jerk and a bastard and a terrible friend but…well I hope that I can do better if you'll let me."

Draco's grey eyes were wide with surprise-the tears frozen in his glistening orbs. Aware that he still held Draco, Blaise let go of his shoulders and Draco slumped back onto the pillows, shocked. For minutes he remained silent and Blaise politely let him abide his time.

He traced Draco's drawn features, noting how pale he looked and how the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have bruised more since the start of term. _He's lost weight, _he noted. He felt guilty for contributing to Draco's troubles and swore that, even if Draco refused to forgive him, he would still help all he could.

"This-" Draco at last croaked, meeting his eyes, "-I never expected this…You-why?" and his lips trembled, the traitorous tears rising once again to his rosy eyes, "-why do you still…I mean, after all I've done, it should be me apologizing." He hastily wiped his eyes although the tears continued to flow. "Your mother was arrested because of-of Father, wasn't she? Sentenced to Azkaban?"

Blaise nodded. Lucious had ratted her out during his trial and although she could have escaped uncaught, she now faced seven years in Azkaban.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, his lips barely moving. He looked suddenly young and lost-like he had after the war when he stood among the rubble and devastation, even then isolated and shunned.

"It's not your fault," Blaise replied, "She played a part in that monster's plans, however small, and she deserved to be punished just as your father did. I don't blame you, Draco."

_So he says, _Draco thought, desperately wanting to believe but ruthlessly crushing the tiny spark of hope. He had had enough of lies and manipulations to last a lifetime.

"Draco," Blaise demanded his attention, "I know it can never be the same, but I'm tired of pretending. Honestly, I've tried ignoring you and I've tried to do what's expected of me, but I can't-I know I never hated you now and I don't think I ever will. We are both victims of the war, Draco, and you're as innocent as I am, perhaps even more so…"

They sat in silence then, too stunned to reveal any further. For how long he traced Draco's pale, listless form Blaise didn't know, but dinner rolled around by the time he met Draco's grey moons again.

"Thanks," Draco whispered. "I'm glad that you don't hate me-" and he tried to give him a smile, but it came off as a pained grimace instead. "I think I'll sleep now. I'm tired…"

Blaise nodded and quickly got up, eager to give him peace. He could see the exhaustion threatening to overtake him even as he spoke.

"Alright. I'll swing by with the assignments and help you catch up tomorrow," he supplied as Draco's eyes closed and he gave a small nod.

Relieved that the meeting had gone so well, Blaise left the Wing feeling as though a great burden had been lifted off his heart. He only hoped that he could be the friend Draco needed amidst this troubling storm.

* * *

Hermione sighed and set down her quill. It was five minutes past midnight. Rolling up her half done essay, which wasn't due for another week, she deposited it neatly in her desk drawer before lazily stretching. She was tired, but there was so much to do…

She looked around her room: apart from the usual necessities, Hermione had managed to make this place her own in the coming weeks. The small pile of thick books, old and dusty, on her side drawer and the empty basket that had belonged to Crookshanks spoke purely of her. Crookshanks…

She would miss him. That cat, abnormal as he was, had been very close to her, but after the war, he had just disappeared one morning. Ron told her not to worry, although at first she thought his indifference stemmed from the fact that he had hated her cat all along.

But knowing Crookshanks, Hermione had learned to expect the unexpected. He was part Keazle, after all, and highly intelligent. Perhaps he had his own quest to finish. Hermione smiled at the thought, but she longed to have her fur ball back in her arms nevertheless.

"You have a visitor, dear," called a portrait right outside her door.

Hermione started. _A visitor? At this hour?_

Picking up her wand by instinct, she drifted downstairs and cautiously approached the door. It opened with a little creak when she turned the knob. Blaise Zabini stood shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.

"Well? Let me in before somebody sees!" he hissed and she stepped aside to allow him through.

"What are you doing here?" she asked once the door had once again swung shut.

"I need to talk to you," and before she could protest, he added, "It's about Draco."

For a minute, Hermione debated whether or not it was worth her while to listen-what did she care anyways? But then, she was far too deep in this Malfoy mess to back out now. So she reminded herself as she they sank into the cold cushions.

"I talked to him," Zabini began, glancing around the lush living room and taking in the admiring green. "We made a truce."

"That's good, isn't it?" she said, wondering why he was telling her of all people.

"I hope so," he replied and chewed his lip, looking both nervous and worried. "I've never been a great friend, I'm too selfish, and Draco…Draco's too distant. He keeps everything to himself-doesn't let on a single thing. Even his emotions are controlled and despite all these years, I still can't read him."

"What do you want me to do then?" she asked, getting right to point.

He regarded her silently for a minute, taking in her bushy hair and tired, but alert eyes. "I just…want you to be there, since you're living with him and all. He most likely won't come to me after all that's happened and I'm not sure if it's for the best but…"

"You're saying he needs someone new?"

He nodded, glad that she was sharp enough to catch on fast. "I've known him far too long and you're right, he has changed. He apologized to me…twice. The Draco I knew would rather die and besides, he seemed sincere."

Hermione folded her arms and half closed her eyes, the smug look clearly taunting him: _I told you so._

"Anyways," Blaise cleared his throat, "Thanks, for being there for him when I couldn't." And he held out his hand, his gaze steady, but Hermione detected the slight trepidation in his emerald eyes.

Slowly she extended her own hand and clasped his. He gave her a brief shake, a crooked smile gracing his dark features.

"Truce then," he smirked and got up to leave.

Hermione saw him out the door, unconsciously waving back when he did. Still blinking in confusion, she made her way back to bed and slid under the covers.

_What in the world just happened? _she wondered as her brain shut down and unwanted sleep claimed her.

* * *

Two whole days later Madam Pompfrey gave Draco the green to go. She just simply told him he was fine the second morning he awoke and begged him not to return again. As if Draco enjoyed _her _company…

When two first years barged in, one covered in green boils no doubt the product of Professor Sprout, and the other doing all she could to comfort her friend without coming in her vicinity, Draco took the opportunity to test his limbs.

While Pompfrey's back was turned, he pushed himself up and immediately regretted lying prone for two whole days. His whole back and thighs were killing him! But it was, he reasoned, nothing he couldn't handle, not after those frightening spasms that rendered him immobile.

Still, he debated whether or not to tell Pompfrey. Surely she could end his agony?

"Mr. Malfoy, you're clothes are on the chair. Kindly dress yourself and leave," Pompfrey interrupted his thoughts.

He looked sourly at her turned back a moment before gritting his teeth and slipping into his own robes. They had been cleaned and smelled faintly of lime and citrus.

When Pompfrey had treated the girl and sent her on her happy way, Draco hesitantly called her.

"Now what seems to be the problem?" she asked, surprised since he was not one to linger.

"I…" he looked away when her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Of course, a hesitant Malfoy was never a good sign. He closed his eyes briefly, hating to meet the distrust that shone in hers. "Nothing-I just-nothing!"

And gathering his bag, he took her leave as fast as his stiff limbs allowed. It was a long journey back to the dorms.

* * *

Hermione had not left the dorms the whole day. Harry and Ron had Quidditch and, since it was a Saturday, the library didn't open till the afternoon. After finishing her breakfast and gathering her weekend post, she exited back to the dorms where, for a lack of better things to do, she started on her homework.

Four hours later, Hermione was satisfied with her progress. She had not only finished her Transfigurations essay, revised and finalized, but now she was two whole chapters ahead in Advanced Potions.

She was just debating whether to get ahead on her D.A.D.A essay or read ahead for Transfigurations when the portrait door swung open and her roommate stumbled in. He was disheveled, an adjective that rarely suited the Slytherin. She had always thought he was a bit of a narcissist, judging from his immaculate appearance.

But now his haphazardly worn shirt, the tie loose and the nape open, the black cloak slung carelessly over his arm instead of being fastened so that his pin shone, made her gape in surprise. His hair too stuck out every which way and he dragged his bag behind him, as though the sheer weight of a few measly textbooks was enough to bring him to knees. But then she remembered where he had been this whole time, and guilt rose in her.

"Granger," he met her eyes and gave her a nod.

She nodded back and watched him make his way to the stairs.

"I'm glad you're back!" she blurted.

He merely grunted and mumbled some remark she couldn't distinguish. Hermione smiled after him. He was acting like an overgrown child!

Shaking her head, she went back to her studies and lost herself to the ticking time. Minutes flew by. So absorbed was she that she didn't hear him come up until he cleared his throat behind her.

"Oh! Malfoy, you scared me!" she started.

He gave her a sheepish grin and she noticed his hair was wet. Taking a seat across from her, he glanced at the papers strewn about, the open textbooks, and two broken quills. Hermione felt incredibly messy and her cheeks colored when she realized he had seen the ink stain on her skirt. But he didn't comment, instead asking,

"Are you, um, busy?"

"No, not really," she cautiously answered, "Just reading ahead I suppose. Why?"

He sighed and, to her great surprise, sank next to her on the floor. Propping open the textbook in his hand, he pointed to a passage.

"I don't understand how to do this," he said. "Think you can help me?"

She gaped at him, not even bothering to hide her surprise and he frowned.

"What?"

"You're asking _my _help?"

He raised a thin eyebrow. "Seeing as you're the only one in all of my classes who wouldn't bite my head off, yeah, I suppose I am."

She shook her head, as though to clear it and took his textbook from him. He waited, watching her scan the passage with quick eyes, her lips moving soundlessly as she skimmed the page.

"Oh, we did this the week you were in the hospital," she remarked, at last looking up and meeting his eyes.

He noticed their chocolate depths and wished he had some right now. Draco so loved chocolate…

"Malfoy?"

He blinked. "Uh, yeah…So, can you explain it to me?"

She nodded warily and he read the questions swimming in her eyes, but he didn't want to explain his lack of concentration. These days, he was lucky if he didn't fall asleep over his lesson. So he pulled up knees and listened as she went through the chapter.

He found he liked the sound of her voice, soft and soothing-and just a little bit smug. He could fall asleep to it. And he noticed the way her eyes lit up like glittering Christmas lights when the ideas came together in a neat, logical knot.

He blinked slowly, sleepily, letting her mesmerizing chatter drown him in its velvet depths. He was just about to give a particularly loud yawn when Hermione abruptly stopped, her eyes trained on him like a vicious cat's.

"Oh, am I boring you?" she scowled and he quickly stifled his yawn.

"What? No!"

"Well you sure are yawning a lot for someone who's wide awake!"

He ran a hand through his dry hair and averted her eyes. "Sor-" He bit his tongue before the apology slipped out.

_For a moment there, you were almost nice Draco! _he thought with alarm.

"It's not you," he explained. "I'm just…tired."

And he watched the angry lines smooth on her features almost instantly. She nodded in understanding.

"You did just get out. What did Pompfrey say? Did you tell her?"

He bit his lip. "No…I tried to, but she wouldn't understand."

"You won't know until you try-"

"Granger you weren't there! You don't-oh never mind." And he made to take the book back from her, but she quickly held it out of his reach.

"Never mind _what?" _she pressed. "Tell me."

He didn't reply at once and she could tell he was debating hard, but, the battle finally won, he sighed, defeated.

"You don't know what it's like when someone looks at you with-with distrust and…hatred. _She _gave me that look even before I could explain myself-they all do. What could be wrong with me, really. I only got what I deserved. They all think that and…well, I'm starting to think they're right."

He spoke with his head bowed, but Hermione didn't miss the bitterness in his voice. For some strange reason, it made her heart ache. She longed to hear that overconfident drawl again.

"They all don't think that way Malfoy," she softly replied. "I don't think that way."

He chuckled-a mirthless laugh. "What is with you and Blaise?" he asked, meeting her eyes, his own marred with sorrow. "Why do you want to help me?"

She stared into his grey depths, so stormy and swirling with pain. She wanted to banish the loneliness that lingered there. For the first time, she saw not a ruthless boy, but a young man weighed down by responsibilities and a past well beyond his years.

"I don't know," she whispered, tracing the faint, blue flecks of his irises. "But I want to help you…if you'll let me."

Draco swallowed as silence settled between them like a blanket of mist on a cold, frosty morning. He gazed into her dark eyes nervously, as she drowned in his cool depths, unabashed. Her steady eyes made him uncomfortable, as though she could see to the very depths of his depraved soul, leaving him utterly naked to her scrutiny.

Suddenly overwhelmed, he shook his gaze, panting as though he'd run a hard race. She started, as though awakened from a dream and he saw her cheeks tinged a rosy hue when he dared look up.

"Thanks, for your help," he said, taking the book back absently and getting up to leave.

"Yeah, you're welcome," she hurriedly replied and turned her back to him, her hands clenching the hem of her skirt tightly.

He looked down at her for a moment, wondering why he was breathing so hard, before turning heel and fleeing up the stairs to his sanctuary.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_"Always forgive your enemies-nothing annoys them so much."_

_~ Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Since their more than friendly meeting the other day, Draco had managed to avoid the Head Girl for all of Saturday. It wasn't hard since she spent most of her time in the library, or at the great oaf Hagrid's, or by the lake with the other two golden magnets.

On Sunday, Draco ventured down for breakfast and lunch to the Great Hall, and having refused Zabini's invitation to the Slytherin Common Room both times, retreated back to his own dorm without further ado. As glad as he was to have Blaise back as a friend, he wasn't ready to revert back to their old routines. He knew he never would be.

Draco spent time finishing his Potions essay for the better part of the day. Around one o'clock, he drifted off from exhaustion and then awoke exactly an hour and a half before his detention with Snape was due.

He passed an hour easily enough, lounging in a soothing bath, and then munched on honey and toast as he got ready. He met no one on his way down to the dungeons, although he did have to sneak by a couple busy snogging in a secluded corridor.

The dungeons were ice cold and rightfully deserted. Draco wished he's bothered to wear a sweater as he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and clopped down to Snape's office.

His Head of House greeted him with a cold sneer, bent over his desk as usual, scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"What am I to do Professor?" Draco politely asked when Snape continued to sneer.

"You are to wait until I give you instructions. We have another addition-" and as he spoke, the door creaked open. Harry Potter stuck his head inside as Snape welcomed him with his trademark glare reserved, it seemed, only for Potter.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Mr. Potter. I dare say it would do you good to _show up on time!" _

Potter chose not to reply and stared at Draco instead, who avoided his eyes.

"You and Mr. Malfoy will be cleaning the entire Potions classroom by hand and if I so much as trace residue magic, you will have to do it all over again _by hand. _Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Draco automatically replied. Potter merely glared.

"Scram then."

They didn't need to be told twice. Silently, they exited and made their way down to the classroom. Two buckets, a washcloth, and a mop were already waiting for them, courtesy of Argus Filch.

Draco immediately grabbed the mop, leaving Harry with the dirty rag. He scrubbed the floor while Harry resigned himself to cleaning the desks. They worked silently for all of five minutes before Harry's curiosity overtook him.

"So what did _you _get in trouble for? It must have been bad for Snape to give you detention." He hadn't so much as seen Snape scowl at Malfoy before. Detention seemed very extreme.

Draco merely shrugged. He didn't want to remember the real reason he was here. If he had succeeded, and blasted Blaise hadn't come by, he wouldn't have to face this chagrin.

"What, did you forget to hand in your homework?" Harry egged and was greeted with the famous Malfoy sneer that he hadn't seen in a long time. He found he oddly missed it.

"Congratulations, Potter. You guessed it," Draco bit out and shuffled to the far corner of the room where he hoped he would be left in peace.

Harry wanted to push him further, he hadn't had a fight with Malfoy in a while after all, but something told him to stay put-and Harry never ignored his instincts. They fell back to uncomfortable silence, wrapped in their own thoughts as they worked.

A half hour later, Harry paused to stretch after rubbing clean twenty desks that were practically sparkling. _Aunt Petunia would have been proud, _he thought as he yawned widely. Between Quidditch practice and homework, he hadn't had much sleep.

A faint hiss forced his attention to his nemesis, whom he had successfully ignored since their brief conversation. Malfoy stood with his back to him, bending his elbows slowly. He was leaning on the broom as though for support with his other arm. As he watched, Malfoy grabbed the broom wearily and slowly began mopping again, the broom only lightly brushing the floor.

_It's going to take him forever to clean if he keeps that up, _Harry thought, and then wondered why he even cared. How many years had he longed to see Malfoy in misery? But now that he had his wish, he wasn't satisfied. If anything, Hogwarts seemed a little boring without Malfoy stirring things up or being suspicious.

"Malfoy," he called when the blond winced again. "Why don't you do the desks? I'm bored of cleaning them."

Malfoy gave him the oddest looks, somewhere between suspicion, surprise, and disgust-if it was possible to display all three emotions at once. But having studied him for all of eight years, Harry had become quiet adept at distinguishing his nemesis' moods. It was disturbing infact, how well he could read them.

"Here-" he tossed Malfoy the wet rag and held out his hand for the broom.

Draco hesitated for the briefest moment before handing over the mop, glad to be rid of it. His back was killing him and the constant shuffling had his elbows throbbing as well. Without a word, they fell back to their silent tasks again.

Draco could feel Potter's eyes on him from time to time, studying him. He tried not to cringe or wince as he wiped the desks. Now, on his knees, his legs were starting to protest. He just wanted to lie down and drown his pain in fitful sleep. He absently wondered how much he would hurt tomorrow as he dipped the rag in the soapy water and made his way to the fourth row of desks.

It happened as he bent down to wipe the seat. The horrifying sensation crept up his spine. Draco gasped, dropping the cloth on the floor and planting both hands on the desk lest he fall to his knees. His chest felt incredibly tight and he found it hard to breath. The dungeon floor swirled beneath him and he felt himself slipping.

"Malfoy?" Potter's frantic voice reached him and he briefly saw his shocked features as he slid to the floor, eyes rolling shut.

"Malfoy?" Harry called again, shaking his shoulder, wanting to move him to a more comfortable position but too scared to try. His face was contorted in pain but he wasn't making a sound. Harry couldn't even tell if he was breathing and the unhealthy paleness that had stolen over him in just the few moments was scaring him.

"Malfoy, stay put. I-I'll be right back!" he instructed, although Malfoy gave no indication that he had heard.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry dashed out the classroom to the first person that came to mind.

"Professor!" he cried as he slid into the office. "Professor, it's Malfoy-he-Please! Come quick!"

Snape, who was bent over his bubbling cauldron, immediately followed Potter to the classroom. He found Draco Malfoy curled at the foot of a desk, clutching himself and shaking as though he were hypothermic.

Snape's first thought was that the boys had dueled and Malfoy was paying the consequences again, but both their wands were not drawn and Draco was shivering not from the cold, but pain.

"Mr. Malfoy, what seems to be the problem?" Snape calmly asked as he knelt on the cool tile beside his student.

But Draco couldn't answer. He was frozen in pain like so many times before. It was Harry who filled in Snape, telling him of the time he had carried the blonde to the Wing and letting slip what Hermione had told him of his nemesis' pain.

Snape's eyes narrowed when he took in the information, but not in suspicion.

"Mr. Potter, alert Madam Pompfrey," he ordered and made to scoop the blonde in his arms.

Even half unconscious, Draco felt the pain that arose from his Professor's touch, but he was helpless to complain. Like a limp doll, he let his Professor carry him to the Wing. He vaguely heard the nurse's surprised yelp and the exchange that followed after he had been stretched on a bed, but he couldn't understand a word of what they said.

His ears were ringing. His mind and body were rigid and numb from the electrifying agony. He couldn't even will himself to open his eyes. Jaw clenched as though glued with concrete, he lay stiff as a board while the nurse poked and prodded him with the tip of her wand, muttering spells that were doing Merlin knows what to him.

He wished he could pass out like last time, but there was no mercy. They didn't touch him anymore, Harry having explained that it only escalated the pain, but stood by helplessly as he rode it out. Harry was surprised Snape let him stay, but then he supposed he only wanted to interrogate him later.

He didn't mind. He would have quite literally done anything to end the pain his nemesis was in. It looked worse than the _cruciatus, _and Harry had experienced enough of that spell to know a bit of the agony Malfoy was in. But at least the spell was controllable. This…It was pure torture.

For how long Malfoy lay in agony, Harry didn't know, but soon enough he saw him relax. The nerves that had popped in his neck from the strain, melted again beneath his porcelain skin and his features smoothened as he finally succumbed to the darkness.

"Poppy, have you any idea what's wrong?" Snape asked. He hadn't once removed his eyes from the boy.

Madam Pompfrey shook her head, her eyes wide with concern. There were tears in them when she looked up.

"No, Severus, I don't, but I'll do anything to stop this-this _pain." _And her voice trembled as she spoke.

Severus nodded. "I'm going to inform the Headmaster. Perhaps a pain potion or two-just in case."

Pompfrey immediately went to her stores and they could hear her fumbling around with the glass vials.

"Potter-" Harry turned to the Professor. "You may leave."

It was not a direct order-he knew this Professor only too well to know when he wasn't wanted. But as Snape's billowing black robes disappeared through the door, Harry decided he might as well stay. His curiosity wouldn't let him sleep otherwise.

* * *

_Ron and Hermione are probably wondering where I am, _Harry thought as he cast a _tempus_ and noted it was already time for dinner. He was sitting in the same chair Hermione had pulled up, but three days ago next to the bed where lay the still form. Malfoy hadn't stirred for four hours and neither had Snape returned.

Madam Pompfrey came in every thirty minutes to check on Malfoy's vitals, still puzzling over what had caused the sudden pain. She didn't shoo Harry away and when he admitted he would stay till someone else came by, she told him to be her eyes and alert her if he saw any changes.

Strangely enough, Harry found he didn't mind being in this situation so much, although sitting by a _silent _Malfoy who was neither scowling nor throwing curses at him was surreal.

_But not unusual, _he thought, remembering the first time he had met the boy and how he had refused his hand of friendship. If he had accepted back then, Harry wondered if he could have prevented what followed.

He shook his head and sighed. It was no use dwelling in the past. He couldn't change it either way. He checked the time again and wished Snape would hurry up. His stomach was starting to growl.

When he looked up again, he found cool, grey eyes surveying him.

"Malfoy, are you awake?" Harry whispered.

"No, I sleep with my eyes open," came the sarcastic reply, although there was no hint of malice in it. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

His voice was weak and he looked tired-too tired for someone who had slept like a log for over four hours.

"Keeping you company," Harry replied and because that sounded too _friendly_, quickly added, "Only till Snape or someone comes by. I'm supposed to tell Pompfrey. I'll be back." And he hastily slipped away, glad that the dim moonlight from the window masked his embarrassment.

Any other time Draco would have analyzed the conversation and stored Potter's weaknesses' for future use, but he was too tired at the moment to do much more than yawn. His limbs felt like lead and his head hurt.

Potter wasn't gone more than a moment when he returned with the nurse in tow.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel?" she asked, keeping her distance as though even staring at him too hard would instigate the pain.

"My head hurts," he calmly replied. "Can I have something for it?"

"Oh, of course dear," she replied and swiftly uncorked a vial that rested on the side table. "Take this for the headache. Is the other pain all gone?"

Draco shook his head as he raised the vial to his lips. Hastily, he gulped down the bitter liquid, trying not to gag, before handing the empty contents back.

"You're still hurting?" Pompfrey frowned.

_It's now or never, _Draco thought, casting a brief glance at Potter who was an uninvited audience. It couldn't be helped however. Draco had had enough of this torture.

"Not as much as before, but it's always there."

"Where?"

"Everywhere, I suppose," he shrugged, "But my joints hurt the most…and my back." After a moment's thought he added, "And I get headaches often. Sometimes, my vision blurs and I have to sleep it off. That's not common, is it?"

Pompfrey shook her head, still frowning. "This is serious-"

"Very serious indeed."

They all turned to the doorway where stood Dumbledore, his blue eyes grave behind the gold specs. He surveyed the little gathering before making his way over to the bed. Snape followed in his wake like an overgrown bat.

"I believe this isn't the first time this has happened?"

Draco nodded, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden under the old man's wary gaze. "No."

"Why weren't we informed of this before?" Snape asked, his voice curt with laced anger.

Draco cringed inwardly from the wrath. "I-I thought it would go away," he mumbled, avoiding everyone's eyes and staring at his hands fisted in the blanket.

Dumbledore silenced Snape with a look. "Your malady, Mr. Malfoy, seems very peculiar. You are in pain all the time and that is never a good thing. Poppy, do have any idea?"

"I wish I did Albus, but this is very foreign to me. I've cast all the diagnostic spells I know, yet nothing seems to be wrong with him."

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid then that we have no choice but to take you to St. Mungo's-"

"No!" Draco cried, wide-eyed. "I won't go there-you can't make me!" He was absolutely terrified of that place.

"But how will we learn what's wrong?"

"I don't care! Just-please, don't take me there," he whined, hardly caring that he was acting like a spoiled child in front of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore glanced at Snape, who was looking sourly at his student's cowardice, before affording Draco a bright smile.

"Very well. I suppose if you won't go to St. Mungo's, then they will have to come here. Rest easy now." And with a twinkle back in his eyes, Dumbledore left the room, whisking Snape away with him.

Draco gulped, his grey eyes wide as saucers. He was clutching the blanket so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Malfoy," Harry called and his eyes snapped on him so fast that Harry almost took a step back. "They're not so bad. I've been there before. The nurses are pretty friendly."

If he understood Harry, he didn't show it.

"I-I hate needles," he whispered, his lips trembling at the very mention. "Th-they stick things in you-I've seen what they did to Mother when she fell ill. I don't-I don't want them to-"

"Of course they won't, dear boy," Pompfrey cut in before he could work himself into a panic attack. "I won't let them prod you with any needles if I can help it. The worst they'll do is give you a nasty potion."

And Draco visibly relaxed with that assurance.

"Now, aren't you boys hungry? I believe the feast isn't yet over, Mr. Potter."

Harry took the cue and with a good natured "good-night" to his ex-nemesis, led himself out the ward. He was smiling widely by the time he reached the Great Hall.

"Harry! Where have you been?" Hermione cried when he flopped beside her.

"Yeah, mate, we were worried-and why are you smiling like that?" Ron asked.

Still unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face and reeling with what he'd discovered, Harry simply turned to Hermione and replied, "You were right, 'Mione, he has changed…a lot!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_"And as pale sickness does invade/ Your frailer part, the breaches made/ In that fair lodging still more clear/ Make the bright guest, your soul, appear."_

_~ Edmund Waller __(Romantic Poet)_

* * *

Draco stared at the old man who sat beside his bed, blinking lazily at him behind thick glasses. He was a researcher from St. Mungo's-a specialist of some sort by the name of Dr. Heinshaw who had many degrees to back up that bored face.

But Draco wasn't thinking about any of that. Only one word swam in his thoughts: _Sinberger's Syndrome. _The Dr. said he had it-whatever _it _was. Draco blinked around the hospital room and saw several pairs of eyes watching him-waiting for his reaction.

Snape, Dumbledore, Pompfrey, even McGonagall…He took a deep breath and faced the Dr. again, trying to look at the stack of thick books he had brought "for his benefit."

"What is this…_disease?" _he at last asked.

Dr. Heinshaw reiterated the information almost promptly. "A magical mutation that is, as of yet, incurable. Basically, the wizard's or witches' magical core backfires, attacking and spreading throughout the body instead of remaining as a contained cell in the body's spinal column. The onset of the attack is experienced as immobilizing pain that shoots through the spine and magnifies the nerve cell's sensitivity to touch, smell, sight, and so on. The attacks are an indication of disease progression and can only be mildly controlled."

Draco licked his lips nervously, not sure what the hell the Dr. was saying. He knew, however, that it was serious. "Will I _die _from this disease?"

"It's possible," the Dr. didn't even blink, "-and highly likely. The syndrome affects one in a million wizards and a little over two in a million witches. It's a very misunderstood disease because most malfunctions dealing with the magical core are manageable if not curable. However, I'm afraid out of all the persons diagnosed with this particular syndrome, every one of them has died prematurely. Miracles are-"

"Ah, Dr. Heinshaw," Dumbledore interrupted, "Perhaps something a bit more _substantial?" _

The Dr. blinked, as though unsure of what Dumbledore meant, till he followed the blue gaze to the patient, who sat as still as a statue, looking at him with horrified eyes.

"Ah, yes," he cleared his throat and began anew. "While it is not-say _preventable, _the progression can be stalled. There are several potions that have been approved for this sort of thing and some have proven to be very effective in soothing the symptoms. However, I must say that this is a very uncertain case."

"Dr., why do you keep referring to Mr. Malfoy as an 'uncertain case'?" Pompfrey asked and there was an edge to her voice that did not go unnoticed.

"Ah, because I'm afraid his is a rare case indeed," the Dr. calmly replied. "There have been forty recorded cases of this syndrome in the last fifty decades and from that short list, Mr. Malfoy appears to be the youngest ever inflicted. The typical ages range from thirty to late fifties, but there is one other case of a witch around twenty-five that I find interesting enough to mention. She seems to have outlived the rest, exceeding the expectancy, and so, I have reason to believe that Mr. Malfoy might defy expectations as well."

He sighed then, before continuing, "But, as all things go, everyone is different. Even if there is a possibility that Mr. Malfoy will change the face of magical disease prevention, there is also the chance that he may collapse even before the predicated expectancy. There is no way to tell, as this syndrome in particular progresses at different speeds depending on the individual's genetic makeup and level of magical competency and the sort. It becomes too technical after that-"

"How long?" Draco suddenly croaked and for the first time, the Dr. seemed to regard him quietly for a moment.

He noted the beads of sweat that stood on his brow, the slight tremble in his hands, the look of utter defeat and fear in his stormy grey eyes, and realized that here he faced not a wizard in his prime, but a mere boy who hadn't so much as tasted the bitter sweetness of life yet. Something seemed to shift in him at this revelation and when he spoke, his voice was almost soft.

"As I said, there is no way to tell exactly how the disease progresses-"

"But you can give me an estimate, can't you?" his voice was impatient even though his eyes seemed to plead to him to not tell.

"Draco-" Snape began, but the boy shook his head and stared at the Dr. anxiously.

Dr. Heinshaw sighed again and took off his glasses. Cleaning them on the sleeve of his robe, he answered, "Given the frequency between your attacks, I would venture to guess…ten years. Twelve at most."

Draco's heart dropped in his stomach and his breath caught in his throat. Ten years! He wouldn't even live to be thirty!

"How? Wh-what….?" and Draco struggled to wrap his mind around the sudden predicament.

Dr. Heinshaw regarded his quivering frame for a moment more before rising to his feet. "I would stay and explain every detail to you, Draco, but I think you will find the books more helpful in that regard. I must take your leave."

Draco hardly heard him as he addressed the professors. He sat in a daze, not comprehending a single thing of what was going on around him. Ten years. Ten years was all he had to live.

And then he wondered, what _did _it mean to live? Had he ever truly lived? Not for the first time, Draco replied with the only answer he knew,

_If it had to come to this, I'd rather not have lived at all._

* * *

Snape stood watching silently by the door. Pompfrey and McGonagall had left after the Dr., thinking Draco would feel more comfortable in revealing his feelings in the mens' presence then theirs.

But Draco hadn't moved a muscle since and it had been fifteen long minutes. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest and was staring unseengingly at the space in front of his bare feet, lost in a train of thought Snape couldn't even begin to guess.

The news was devastating. As much as he loathed the boy for his foolishness and pomp, he would never wish such a predicament on anyone. As he scrutinized the blonde head, Severus thought of the boy's father.

He had known Lucious for a long time. They used to be friends in their days at Hogwarts, but as they grew older, Severus peeled away from the traditional thoughts whose grip only seemed to tighten on Lucious with every passing day.

He knew the man had no sympathy or patience for children-even his own child. He viewed his family as his property-they were for him to do as he pleased with them in the name of their family's honor and Narcissa, who was only too familiar with these old, cultured rules, gave in to her husband like a good wife.

In the end, it was Draco who suffered and paid the price. Still, Severus doubted whether the boy would ever admit to his father being the evil bastard he was. To him, Lucious had always been a strong pillar whom he had looked up to. Even after Lucious' arrest, when things began to fall apart and wreak havoc in his life, Draco, Severus knew, did not once blame his father.

He truly knew how to put up a front and play the bad, rude bully, but at heart, he was simply a lonely, misunderstood, and in more ways than one, a mistreated boy. Severus felt a sudden pang in his heart when he realized that even he had contributed to the boy's state. If he had been there for him as much as he had looked over Potter, perhaps things would have turned for the better and his life might have been somewhat normal.

Severus closed his eyes as he remembered the days in Malfoy Manor when that snake-eyed monster had inhabited it. He remembered how lost and scared Draco looked in his own home. The boy's nerves had constantly been on edge and he remembered hearing him screaming from nightmares more than once in those long nights. He had waited outside the door to his room while Narcissa consoled him, calming his sobs and speaking soothing words to him well into the night.

"Professor," Draco suddenly spoke and although his voice was hardly more than whisper, both men straightened, giving him his full attention.

Draco raise his head then and looked at them steadily with red rimmed eyes. "I'm fine," he hoarsely whispered, "I'll be fine."

And Severus couldn't tell whether he was telling them or was trying to convince himself.

"I'm glad to hear that, my boy," Dumbledore spoke, his old voice soothing and gentle. "Would you like me to inform Narcissa today-"

"No!" he cried, wide-eyed. "She can't know."

"But I think she would want to-"

"No…please, don't tell her," he begged, almost whining with urgency.

"But why ever not?" and Dumbledore didn't hide his surprise.

"Because she's suffered enough," Draco simply replied. "Mother's finally able to relax…since the war and…" Lucious' arrest, he needn't add. "-I don't want to tax her with my worries. I'll…tell her sometime when I'm…" When I'm ready to face the truth myself.

They understood, how could they not? But Severus was surprised by his consideration. He had thought he would cry for Narcissa first thing-Draco had never confided in anyone else before.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "You may keep your mother in the dark, but if you wish to continue at Hogwarts, someone will need to know so they can help you if need be. Do you know anyone whom you trust?"

Draco shrugged. Blaise came to mind, but after the war and their fight, he didn't want to be tied to him anymore. he thought about asking Professor Snape-the man had helped him once despite the threat to his life-but he knew he didn't stand on favorable ground with him. He had lost the man's trust once and for all by turning on Dumbledore.

With a sigh, Draco admitted, "No…but it doesn't matter. I'll be fine on my own."

Snape snorted. "Yes, and what will you do on your own when you're writhing in agony? I don't think I'll be conveniently at your disposal whenever you need a lift to the hospital wing."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned and Snape shut up, although the scowl remained on his lips.

"Perhaps I have a solution," Dumbledore offered and Draco sullenly eyed him. "You are the Head Boy, Draco. Why not allow the Head Girl to help you once in a while?"

Draco blanched. "_Granger?" _he spat, disgust evident on his face. "You want to tell Granger?"

Dumbledore's features hardened suddenly at his tone. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe she knows quite a lot already and has helped you plenty of times. Am I right?"

Draco frowned, but nodded. "Why would she want to help me? She hates me! And anyways, there's no way she'll find the time. You can ask her, but I know she'll refuse."

"Then we'll just have to ask and see, won't we?" and Dumbledore rose to go. At the door, he stopped and turned around, fixing him with his twinkling gaze once again.

"I believe, Draco that sometimes, it helps to start anew. Life is tricky that way, isn't it?" and disregarding the angry frown he received, Dumbledore disappeared around the corner, a soft smile at his lips.

* * *

Draco didn't sleep well that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard his own voice screaming in his ears, begging for release. The number ten swam in his thoughts. Old nightmares resurfaced and paid him a long due visit. He saw his own grave in his dreams-saw his grey corpse being buried.

He woke up five times during the night, screaming bloody murder. Madam Pompfrey finally took pity and gave him a generous dose of sleeping potion. He slept soundly after that, although when dawn broke, he awoke tired and disoriented.

For the longest time, he couldn't remember what he was doing in the hospital wing. Then the news slowly washed over him, drowning him piece by piece back in misery. As the day wore on, Draco simply lay on the bed, staring out the foggy window, his thoughts reflecting the gloomy atmosphere.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do now that he knew what the hell was wrong with him. His eyes roamed over the stack of books lying untouched on the side table. He could start by reading-Dr. Heinshaw had said it would be wise to do so-but Draco didn't think he could face his future so abruptly.

He didn't care to know how he was going to end up a cripple and dead by twenty-seven. He didn't want to think about all the things he was going to have to give up and compromise with. Draco knew his future was bleak after the defeat of Voldemort.

He had aspired to become an Auror once. He liked to think of the thrill of the job-putting your life on the line to catch dark wizards. As a boy, he had indulged in fictional accounts of their exploits and knew exactly what one had to do to get into the exclusive training program prior to starting Hogwarts.

But that was all before Draco learned that he was a dark wizard and came from a whole line of them. It was the cruelest joke life had played on him. A Malfoy…an _Auror? _His ancestors were probably turning in their graves with the mere shock of the thought.

Draco shuddered to think what his father would have said if he had ever known. They never discussed 'dreams' in their house. It was a childish topic-these dreams, aspirations, hopes…All a Malfoy was concerned with was their family honor, prestige, and tradition.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. The ache was back again, seeping through him like a restless snake. He hadn't paid it much thought and the distress of the inevitable news had somewhat numbed him to the pain.

But now that he was coming to and Reality was once again tugging at his sleeves, Draco couldn't fight the pain anymore. Since morning, he had already consumed two pain potions and asked for more-which was promptly refused. By afternoon, his hands were starting to tremble and a wall of fatigue weighed upon him-side effects of intervention.

_At least I'm not screaming in pain, _Draco thought as he tried to coax his buzzing brain back to sleep. He hadn't had an 'attack' since the time in the dungeons and Draco could do without one for a long, long time to come.

He knew it would happen eventually thought, as his body weakened-as his own magic destroyed him from within. For the first time in his entire life, Draco regretted being a wizard. How different would life be if he never possessed this magical core?

Certainly he would be whole and happy and healthy. He would never have had to deal with Voldemort or being shunned by friends or being forced to go through this vile disease. But then…he wouldn't be Draco, would he?

A sad, bitter smile crossed his lips. _You're one pathetic bloke, Draco Malfoy, _he savagely thought. _Look at you-you survived the bloody war only to poison yourself! _

He chuckled mirthlessly at the irony, the sound echoing like a strangled moan when tears stung his eyes. He couldn't do this-he didn't want any more pain. Merlin, wasn't it bad enough knowing the world hated you?

Why, he wondered, why did he have to hate himself too?

* * *

Outside the Wing, Hermione paused at the door. She closed her eyes when his distraught cries reached her. She had only seen a boy cry once-when Harry learned about Sirius in their third year-and it had not been a pretty sight.

There was so much anguish-so much _anger_ intermingled with those sad emotions that it sent chills up her spine. Draco's sobs made her shiver now as she wondered whether to go in.

Dumbledore had told her everything that had transpired after lunch in his office. When he asked her if she would help him, Hermione hadn't known what to think at first. Of course, _she _wanted to help him, but would he accept her?

Chuckling, Dumbledore had mused at how Draco had asked the same question. _Two people so different…and yet so alike, _he had murmured as he stroked Fawkes, his thoughtful gaze resting on Hermione the whole time.

When Draco began to cough, Hermione sucked in her breath and pushed through the doors. When she saw the sorry sight before her, Hermione made her decision. She would help him.

She would help him if it's the last thing she ever did.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey! So thanks for the encouraging reviews so far-I really appreciate them! I know this was a quick update, but since college has already started, I probably won't be posting slower. However, I'll try to be as prompt as possible. I'm glad some of you are enjoying this. ^_^

**Chapter 11**

_"The dew of compassion is a tear."_

_~ Lord Byron (Romantic Poet)_

* * *

He was crying openly, coughing between sobs. He looked so small on that large bed as he sat with knees drawn to his chest, his face buried in his arms.

Hermione took a tentative step closer and laid a warm hand on his shaking back. His head popped up and he stared at her with red rimmed eyes. Trails of tears marred his pale cheeks and his chapped lips were bleeding slightly where he must have worried them.

"Drink, Draco," Hermione said, calmly holding a glass of water to his lips as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

Speechless, Draco only parted his lips and allowed the cool water to trickle down his parched throat. The water seemed to have revived him some because as soon as he'd drained the glass, he turned away, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks.

"What do you want Granger?" he croaked in a voice too tired to carry any malice.

But Hermione didn't know what to say. How could she tell him how much it hurt her to see him like this? The once proud boy sobbing like a lost child…It wrung her heart. Her hand was still on his back, yet he seemed not to mind-or if he did, he pretended not to notice-and she suddenly knew what she wanted to do.

Leaning over him, she pulled him firmly to her, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pressing his head to her chest. She heard him gasp, but he didn't struggle or push her away. She felt him tense taunt as a string about to snap and his warm breath ghosting over her arm came in uneven pants. She knew he was struggling to keep his composure.

"It's alright to cry, Draco," Hermione whispered. "I won't tell."

His breath hitched again, but this time, she felt the wet sting of salty tears on her arms as he let himself go. He shook like a leaf and Hermione couldn't help sliding down next to him so that his face hid in the hollow of her neck, her arms still wrapped around him.

His fingers clutched her sleeve, knuckles white. Hermione ran her free hand up and down his back, tracing his curved spine through the thin shirt. Pompfrey had let him change, knowing how much he hated the gowns.

_Small mercies, _Hermione thought as she thought about what was in store for him.

She didn't know much about the syndrome itself, but from what Dumbledore related to her, she knew his body was only going to get weaker. Ten years…Hermione couldn't even begin to guess what if felt like to have a timer stuck to your heart.

She knew what it was like to live in fear of not seeing tomorrow of course. The war had taught that to all those involved and in this manner she could relate to him, but…this was a war his own body had waged on him. Was there any way to win against yourself?

For how long she held him as he cried softly, Hermione didn't know, but pale streaks of fading sunlight were falling though the curtained window by the time he stilled. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep in her arms.

Cautiously, she leaned over him, peering at his salt-stained face against her neck. His long fingers were still tightly curled around her sleeves and he was leaning heavily into her. Hermione loathed to wake him-she knew he needed to find peace in his dreams at least.

As slowly and carefully as she could, she scooted further onto the bed and fell against the propped up pillows, holding Draco's limp form in her arms. He stirred only to bury his face further in the warmth of her neck, his arm curving around her waist and pulling her close.

Hermione tried not to blush at his sudden affection. She couldn't think about _those things-_about how smooth and firm he was, or how silky his blonde hair shone. She couldn't think about how warm and utterly _real _he was, curled up against her like that.

No. Draco needed her to be a friend and nothing more right now. By nightfall-or whenever he woke, she knew the walls would come back up again. But for now, she supposed, she could allow this intimacy.

Running her hands up and down his back in soothing strokes, she rested her chin on top of his ruffled head and breathing in the citrusy smell of his shampoo, closed her eyes with a soft sigh.

* * *

Something was nagging at him. He moaned and tried to push it away by closing his tired mind, but the constant presence didn't disappear. His right arm was throbbing from the elbow down. As he came to, the pain became more real and more persistent.

His eyes fluttered open and for a while, he laid perfectly still, relishing in the warmth of the arms that held him. He stared at the exposed, golden skin, feeling the strands of brown hair that fell across his face tickle his nose as he breathed.

There was a weight pressing on his head that made it difficult for him to look up, but look up he did. Eyes wide, he gaped incredulously at the last person he had expected to help him. She was fast asleep, her mouth slightly open. Her arms were wrapped loosely about his back and he realized with a start that he had slept holding her to him.

He remembered her coming in and giving him water. Draco's eyes drifted down her slender form, to her long legs that were tangled with his. He should be angry-she had seen him at his weakest after all-but Draco felt a sudden surge of warmth instead. He didn't know why, but he suddenly didn't want to extract himself from her warmth.

He traced her soft, peaceful features with his eyes, marveling at how young she looked in her sleep-like a school girl. An unconscious smile tugged at his lips, but before it could reach his eyes, she stirred and her sudden weight on his arm made him flinch. Wincing, he slowly pulled his arm from around her waist, cradling it to his chest.

He crawled to his knees, making the bed dip, and his movements jostled Hermione awake. Draco sucked in his breath when he saw her slowly open her eyes. They met his and for a moment, both simply stared-a thousand thoughts reeling through their heads

Hermione blushed when she realized just how close they were and how he had felt pressing against her. Draco admired the rosy color rising on her cheeks before he found his own pale face growing hot.

He turned away and cleared his throat as she straightened, folding her legs and smoothing her rumpled top.

"Thanks for…that," he mumbled, unsure what to call this strange intimacy between them.

Hermione smiled at his bent head. _So even Malfoy can be awkward! _

"You're welcome. Are you feeling better?" she asked, wondering what it was she should call him now. She doubted he remembered her referring to him by his first name.

"Hmm…" He massaged his throbbing arm with his other hand, kneading the knotted muscles slowly. "Did Dumbledore talk to you?"

She nodded. "He asked me to help you and I-"

"You don't have to," he cut in, unable to hide the bitter disappointment in his voice.

"And I _want _to," she finished, smiling at him when he at last looked at her, grey eyes wide.

"I don't mind," she continued, holding his gaze steadily. "You can ask me for help anytime and we can split up the Head duties more so you don't have to juggle too much. If you can't come to class sometimes, I'll let you borrow my notes since we're pretty much taking the same classes anyways. Will that be ok?"

He blinked, mouth hanging open comically. "You _are_ Hermione Granger, aren't you?" he whispered and she laughed.

"And you're Draco Malfoy-I'm as real as you are," she chuckled, but stopped when his smile slowly faded.

"I don't even know who I am anymore," he sighed. "Did he tell you everything?"

And Hermione guessed he referred to her meeting with Dumbledore. "Only the name of the syndrome and that it's progressive."

"But do you know what that means?" he pressed.

She nodded. "It doesn't matter. It's not going to stop me from helping you."

He laughed harshly. "It's not going to make any difference, is it? What's the point of even being here if it's not going to be of any use to me?" he frowned. "Maybe I should just drop out and save whatever time I've got left on what I want to do."

"And what is it you want to do?" she quietly asked, tracing the pain beneath his crumbling façade.

He shrugged. "I don't know…but not this. I never wanted this."

Her eyes softened and she reached out tentatively, brushing his arm with her fingertips. She wanted to say _something _to erase his uncertainty, but didn't know how to comfort him with words alone. How do you comfort someone who knows when he's about to die?

She searched around the room as though for help and spotted the books. "When are you going to read those?"

Draco, who was again massaging his arm, frowned. "I don't really want to read them," he darkly replied.

"But don't you want to know?" she quietly asked.

"Know what, Granger? How I'm going to die?" he cried, "Whatever's going to happen will happen whether I read those god damn books or not. I don't see any point in peeking into my pathetic future early, thanks."

"Well, don't you think it'll be good to be prepared?" she pressed. "And maybe, if you read enough, you'll learn ways that will help you-that will help you…cope," she lamely finished, shirking her eyes in sudden guilt.

Who was she to advise him? It was his life and his choice. He was the one dying, not her. What did she know about his insecurities?

Draco sighed and dropped his arms. "You're right, I suppose," he slowly replied, surprising her by his frankness. "I should read them, but…"

"You can't bring yourself to?" she guessed, sensing the fear behind his words.

He nodded and eyed the stack of books suspiciously.

"Well you don't have to read them all at once," she put forth. "Just start whenever you feel comfortable and read maybe only the sections that interest you first. I'm sure you must be curious."

He eyed her then, his brows knitted and eyes hard. Hermione squirmed under his intense gaze, but refused to look away.

At last he remarked, "You talk about my _condition _as thought it were some kind of a medical novelty. Do you find my disease so interesting? Is that why you're helping me-because you want to learn first-hand how a wizard ends up crippled by his own magic? Think you'll come up with some ingenious idea and save poor Draco's life, is that it?"

"NO!" she cried, startling them both with the power of her voice.

"No," she softly replied, "I don't want to help you because of that. I am curious about the disease, but Draco you can't possibly think I'm doing this half-heartedly-"

"Then why do you care?" he cried, "What's in it for you?"

"Nothing!" she cried back, exasperated.

"Well that's not very convincing, is it?" he sneered. "I make your life hell from the first minute and then you suddenly forget all that animosity enough to _embrace _me? Even Gryffindors have limits! There must be something more-"

"There isn't!" She wished he would step out of Slytherin politics. "I only want to help you-"

"Why? If this some pity case, then I don't want it!"

"It's not! I only…"

His eyes narrowed. "Only what?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly before fixing him with her brown orbs again.

"I only want to help because I care," she replied, "I don't-I don't want anything like that to happen to you, Draco. It's awful and unfair and I can't even begin to imagine or understand how hard it must be for you. But that's why I want to help! No one should have to carry this kind of burden alone and, if you really aren't going to tell anyone else, let me help you. Let me share this burden with you."

Draco stood speechless, confusion plainly etched in his sharp features. "Granger," he breathed, shaking his head and turning away.

"What?" she asked, suddenly worried she'd said too much.

_Here it comes, _she thought, steeling herself for the barrage of rejection. Hermione held her breath.

"You are the craziest witch I've ever met," he replied. "And for that, I suppose I am thankful."

And when he turned to face her, he was smiling. For a second, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure this wasn't a dream. When had Draco Malfoy ever smiled at _her _like that?

But then he held his hand out and whispered, "Thank you," when she took it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Some Notes: I've made up a few words in this chapter as well that I think I should clarify. In my world: M.M.D stands for Magical Medical Doctorate; IN.D. stands for Incurable Diseases; and M.P. stands for Masters in Magical Psychology._

_

* * *

_

__

_"Courage is as often the outcome of despair as of hope; in the one case we have nothing to lose, in the other everything to gain." _

_~Diane de Poitiers  
_

_

* * *

__Draco returned to the dormitory the next morning, a small bag full of pain potion vials in hand. Pompfrey had generously given them to him, saying,_

"Professor Snape and I will try to come up with better alternatives, but these will have to do for now I'm afraid."

Draco could care less. He had taken them eagerly. Side effects or not, they were his lifeline from now. Granger greeted him when he came in through the portrait hole.

It was a Sunday morning. Their classes would resume tomorrow, but Draco had been in the hospital for four whole days and knew he had to catch up.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to the bag in his hand.

"Pain potions," he replied as he dropped on the couch. "She told me to come back for as many as I need."

"That's good," she nodded and turned back to the open textbook in her lap.

He watched her for a moment more before clearing his throat and asking, "What are you-um studying?"

"Oh this?" she flipped to the front cover and held the book out to him. "It's just for a bit of light reading."

"_An Erudite Guide to the Erroneous Plants of the Wizarding World," _he read aloud, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "Why the sudden fascination?"

She shrugged as she took the heavy book back. "It's not a fascination-just plain curiosity," she lied and if he saw through her white lie, he didn't press her.

"So? Find anything interesting?" he asked instead, leaning back into the cushions and running a hand through his messy locks. He hadn't had time to be very particular about his looks in the hospital.

"Well, it's all interesting really," she replied, smoothening a page and looking up at him happily. "Did you know there are over five hundred magical herbs and fungi whose properties have yet to be discovered? Imagine the possibilities!"

He smiled despite himself at her childishness. "Are you going to sit in here all day with your nose buried in that book?"

She frowned as though challenging him to dissuade her. "What more is there to do? Harry and Ron are busy with the upcoming Quidditch match and I don't really fancy anyone else's company at the moment."

He gave her a funny look, somewhere a cross between amused and incredulous, before sighing and turning to look out the large window next to the hearth. It was drizzling steadily outside, a slight fog coating the horizon in its velvet blanket.

"It's a nice day. I'm due for a walk," he murmured, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

And Hermione, torn between the pull of the book and the lure of those impossibly convincing eyes, hesitated only a moment before slamming the book shut.

* * *

They took the long way around the Great Hall towards the open grounds. Hermione was bundled up in a thick brown coat, a warm hat, and a long scarf. She was pulling on brown, woolen gloves as they descended the stairs.

"Let's head to the lake," Draco said from ahead. He only wore a green sweater and walked with hands in his pant pockets to keep them warm.

"Aren't you cold?" Hermione asked as she caught up. They fell in step easily.

"Hm? No, I like the cold," he replied, blowing softly in the air and admiring his vapory breath.

There were hardly any students out. In the distance, Hermione could trace the specks zooming around in the sky above the stadium. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw was this Friday-the first game of the season.

"The grass is all wet," Draco groaned, bringing her back from her thoughts.

"Oh? Yeah, I guess it is. We can sit on those rocks," she said, leading him to some protruding boulders. They were uncomfortable, but both managed to balance themselves on the uneven surface.

Draco leaned back on his arms with a sigh, his longs legs stretched before him. Hermione blew on her gloved hands and rubbed them together to keep warm.

"Does the lake look different to you?" he asked after minutes of silence.

Hermione scanned the frosty horizon. "It's gotten gloomier I suppose. But then, isn't it always?"

Draco shrugged. "It wasn't always this dark. Mother told me it used to teem with merpeople and dryads and what not."

"But I thought there were still some merpeople. Didn't they stage a Triwizard task?"

"Only because Dumbledore asked them to. They don't live in the lake anymore. When the dementors came to Hogwarts, they left the grounds, feeling threatened, and have refused to come back since. Say they can still trace the dark magic."

"Oh." She wondered aloud how he knew so much about them.

"We used to have some back at the Manor," he replied.

"You have a _lake _at the Manor?" she gaped.

"Not in the general vicinity, but further on the grounds, yes. Father…he used to like fishing."

Hermione couldn't imagine Lucious Malfoy doing anything as _muggle _as fishing.

"We used to go almost every weekend when I was little. We always had parties over the weekend so sometimes he liked to take the yatch and go ride with a friend or two, me in tow."

He chuckled suddenly. "I remember, when I was four, I fell in the lake off the back of the boat. They were so absorbed in their own little game that they didn't notice till a merman plopped me back on deck. That was the first time Father ever saw them in the lake."

"You mean he didn't even know they lived there?" she asked.

He shook his head. "The Manor is so old…Sometimes, I even get lost, and there are passages and secret doors and whatnot that like to wander."

"Just like at Hogwarts," she breathed, amazed, then asked more quietly, "Is that why he chose the Manor? Because it's very magical?"

Draco shrugged. "I suppose…Father wasn't too happy, but then the Manor has a mind of its own and like generations of Malfoys, it welcomed the Dark Lord."

They were silent for a time. Hermione became lost in admiring the dew that clung to Draco's hair-it looked so soft. She wanted to reach out and smooth the ruffled ends, but made a fist and stuffed her hands in her pockets to ward off temptation.

Draco for his part was staring unseeingly at the water, his eyes lost and distant. He appeared deep in thought, so she gave him space. After a time, he spoke.

"I can't believe we're sitting here like this without hexing each other."

She peeked at him cautiously and saw that he was smiling thinly at her.

"What happened Granger?"

Hermione smiled back, glad that he didn't find her company awkward, and replied, "I guess-I guess we grew up!"

* * *

It was high afternoon by the time they sauntered back.

"Aren't you coming for lunch?" she asked as she removed her scarf and gloves.

"No, you go ahead. I'm going to take a nap," and he yawned to emphasize the point.

With a "Sweet dreams!" Hermione left him to join Harry and Ron at the table. Tired from practice and ravenous, they grumbled about the load of unfinished homework as they attacked their food, hardly noticing the happy glow that emanated off Hermione.

Hermione was glad for this respite. She was too preoccupied with her quiet conversation by the lake. He was so different then what either of them had ever thought. Perhaps it was because he was still reeling from the shock, but Hermione had a feeling that they had never known the real Malfoy-that the real Malfoy had always hid behind a bully façade.

Here was a side of him she had never seen. Vaguely, she wondered how he was like at home, or among close friends, or with his parents-with his _parent. _She remembered the nostalgia in his voice when he spoke of his father. Perhaps to the world, Lucious had put up an evil front-or perhaps the man truly was evil-but to his son, he must have been something more.

Knowing him now, Hermione found it hard to imagine that Draco would blindly follow a heartless man unless he had something more in him. She tried to picture Lucious as a carefree, lovable father, perhaps finishing on a sailing yatch, and failed miserably. No matter how much she sympathized with his son, Lucious would remain nothing but a evil bastard in her mind. They had suffered enough on his whims.

_But Draco deserves a chance, _she thought, and he would get one.

* * *

Harry and Ron wanted to run down to Hagrid's to chat and see what he was up to, but Hermione managed to bring up an excuse and managed to get away. She didn't know why she was avoiding their company-well, she wasn't _really. _She just wanted to see Draco.

It was only as she stepped into the common room that she recalled he was taking a nap. She sighed and sank into the cushions. It was as she was wondering what to do that she spotted a stack of books on the window ledge.

She had never seen them before and they didn't look like assigned textbooks. Curious, she approached them and peeked at the front cover of the first book: _Unexplained Maladies and Afflictions…_

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline when she realized these were the books the doctor had left Draco to read, but he didn't seem to _want _to read anytime soon. She understood-and yet at the same time, her curiosity peaked.

Tweaking her ears to alert her to the sound of his light footsteps, Hermione snatched the books and flopped on the couch. One by one, she glanced at the other covers:

_The Sinberger Sickness _by Dr. Flora Abonce, M.M.D_; _

_Into the Abyss: A Compilation of Known Facts About Unknown Maladies _by Dr. Clive Tiggles, M.M.D_; _

_Living on Deadlines: When Magic Fails _by Antonette Wise, M.P._; _

and _A Constant Ache: The Sinberger Solution _by Dr. D, IN.D. Specialist.

There was a note stuck to the last cover in an untidy scrawl:

_Draco,_

_Let me know if you're interested._

_Dr. Heinshaw_

She blinked, trying to imagine what odds these books hid in their numerous depths. With a deep breath, she pulled _Into the Abyss _from the stack and, flipping to the Contents, found "Sinberger's Syndrome" on page 500. Her eyes flew over the introduction before scanning the facts and figures.

_Sinberger's Syndrome: A rare magical immunodeficiency that affects 1 in a million wizards and witches. Up to date, there have only been forty documented cases, of which there are no survivors. _

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, before taking a deep breath and plunging on.

_Sinberger's Syndrome affects witches more than wizards as their magical cores are emotionally unstable between the years of thirty and fifty-five. However, although these are the primary years between which the known cases fall, there have been two recorded cases of a witch and a wizard who were diagnosed prior to the age of thirty. In the case of the witch, the disease progression took a path in an unpredictable way, but she outlived the life expectancy by two whole years. _

_Her primary doctor concludes it is due to the concoction she consumed for her remaining five years: a potion now banned from the apothecaries for containing excess amounts of salicyl acid that is known to diminish cognitive and neurological functions. Attempts to lift the ban have been overruled. _

Hermione skimmed the following history and flipped the page to read the list of symptoms:

_Sinberger's Syndrome in individuals may display all or some of the following symptoms:_

- _excessive fatigue_

- _inability to concentrate_

- _blurry vision_

- _frequent headaches_

- _loss of appetite_

- _sudden weight loss_

- _difficulty with coordination_

- _a constant, nagging ache in the joints and prominent muscles_

_The last seems to be the most common and misdiagnosed symptom as the pain is associated directly with the magical core in the spinal column and can be mistaken for any number of immunodeficient diseases._

Next followed a relatively summarized prognosis:

- _a weakening of muscles_

- _increased frequency of attacks (depends on the individual)_

- _loss of certain neurological functions (motor or sensory-again, depends on the individual)_

- _decreased sexual drive in wizards and inability to achieve orgasm in witches_

- _weakening of the respiratory, digestive, and circulatory systems_

- _poor circulation may result in:_

_~ bruising_

_~ anemia_

_~ shortness of breath_

_~ dizziness_

_Death due to Sinberger's Syndrome is most often the result of respiratory failure. In some cases, hemorrhages, seizures, and excessive internal bleeding have also been recorded._

Hermione snapped the book shut. She couldn't read anymore-it was much too horrible! Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit her lips to keep from crying out as a myriad of emotions overwhelmed her.

"It's that bad, huh?"

She jumped at the sudden voice and opened her eyes to see Draco standing before her, his eyes watching her steadily and revealing no emotion as he caught his reflection in the tears that mirrored her chocolate brown eyes.

"D-Draco! What are you-I-I was just-" and she hastily piled the books back on the coffee table, blushing at her intrusion and utterly lost for words.

He let her distract herself as she carried the books back to where she found them before turning to face him, guilt rewritten all over her features.

"Draco, I'm sor-"

"There's no need to apologize," he cut in. "If you're going to help me, you need to know."

_As do you, _she thought as he reached for the book she had closed and opened it to the page she had been on. Hermione stood by, watching him tentatively as he read the horror on those pages. His face remained passive, even disinterested, but his eyes gave him away.

She saw the shock and fear resurface and suddenly wanted to snatch the book from his hands. At length, he closed the book with trembling hands and closed his eyes. She saw his throat working up and down, battling the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

She wanted to tell him that it was ok to let them go in front of her, but knew his fragile pride couldn't accept another humiliating show after yesterday's.

"Draco," she whispered and he opened his eyes, but didn't face her.

"I knew it would be bad," he slowly replied, his voice sounding distant, "But I didn't think…"

He suddenly sighed and gave her a thin smile which shocked her to no end.

"How long before they ship me to Mungo's, you think?" he joked and Hermione only gaped.

She had expected him to throw a tantrum, scream, yell, maybe even lash out at her, but not this-not this joke and certainly not a smile! Not for the first time, Hermione found herself wondering just _what_ in the world Draco Malfoy was.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_"In the best relationships, there remain serious pockets of unresolved bitterness."_

_~ Anthony Wolf (Author, Psychologist)_

* * *

Days flew by. Draco and Hermione's relationship gradually improved. He was still shunned by practically the whole school. He still spent a good part of his time on Fridays trying to scourge whatever things had been stolen, mangled, or torn that week. He still battled the pain each day and he still avoided Blaise like the plague, but he didn't feel so alone anymore.

He found Granger's presence soothing. True, their budding friendship was still fragile and both were increasingly puzzled by how easily they accepted it, but Draco was secretly thankful nonetheless.

They developed an unsaid routine. After the day's toil, they met in the living room in the evenings and finished their homework quietly across the coffee table. They headed down for dinner together, going their own separate ways when the Great Hall came into view. Their friendship was a secret one and they found it more special that way.

They never spoke to each other outside the Head dorms. True, Hermione partnered with him whenever she could and they bickered for the sake of bickering and appearances, but there was no malice in their jibes. Instead, to them, it was nothing more than playful banter.

Draco found himself looking forward to the time he could spend with the Head Girl. Oddly enough, this little fact didn't seem to bother him as much as he'd thought-or hoped. There was _something _about her that entranced him. He couldn't quiet place it-this feeling of calm and comfort and sense of belonging that reeled over him whenever he was with her.

Perhaps it was because he didn't have to worry about petty things like Slytherin politics or appearances or the fact that he was a hated Malfoy. She knew the truth about him and yet she accepted him for who he was and didn't judge. Around her, he could be himself and Draco had for so long worn one mask or another that he was quiet glad to discard the false façade and give in.

He wouldn't go as far as to say he was completely open or emotional, but he did allow her glimpses of him that not even his parents knew. Like the fact that he read muggle books, stashed at the very bottom of his trunk where not even the house elves could find them. Or that he had a fetish for hats and coats. He never wore them at school of course, but he had a hat or two handy for any weather back home. It drove his mother insane, he said. His father never gave it too much thought as long he looked presentable, which really wasn't hard.

Hermione didn't say so, but she found his quirks endearing. It made him so much more human and she found she could relate surprisingly easily to him. He was a good listener, something she never would have suspected, but perhaps growing up more an adult than a child, he had learned to read his peers for approval. He certainly read her like a book, which was disturbing at first, but the more time she spent with him, the more she appreciated his attentiveness.

He knew what to say when she felt overwhelmed and craved a distraction; knew to steer clear when she was agitated; knew how to play with words just enough to make her laugh; He was charming, she decided, because he never tried to outdo himself around her.

* * *

"Hermione, come to Gryffindor Tower with us?" Harry asked softly as they got up from a Sunday breakfast.

"Oh, I was planning to head to the library actually-"

"You never hang out with us," Ron pouted and Hermione was surprised to see his hurt expression.

Harry looked at her pleadingly from behind his best friend and Hermione gave in with a smile.

"Oh good, but you're not going to do any homework and Merlin, no more head duties!" Ron said before going on to describe their delightful Sunday plans. Hermione and Harry shared a knowing look and let Ron prattle on. He may not have realized it yet, but they both knew that Ron was dangerously close to falling in love with Hermione Granger, if he hadn't already.

She had come to realize as early as third year that she harbored certain feelings for the red head. True, his temper and thoughtlessness sometimes aggravated her, but he had a good heart and was brave, despite what others said…and naive. She wondered how long more it would take him to ask her out. It wasn't as though they were getting any younger, but…Hermione was patient. She would wait.

They had a grand old time in the less than crowded Common Room. Hermione hadn't been there much and found she missed the familiar Tower. All through morning and a good part of the afternoon, they lazed around, playing Exploding Snap, Wizard's chess, experimenting with the Weasley twin's latest inventions, and chattering loudly.

Hermione felt relaxed and content after letting go, but come evening, her duties began pressing on her and she managed to excuse herself. Ron and Harry, she knew, were going to take a long break well into the night before even thinking about their homework and, as much as she loathed to see them waste precious time, she knew she was in no position to Mother them anymore.

So with a hearty good-night, she rushed off to her dorm to get her things. The common room was empty. She wondered if her dorm mate was already asleep, wishing she could catch him just once. She hadn't talked with or seen him all day and, for some reason, she _longed _to share just one word.

_What are you thinking Hermione? _she chastised herself, _He needs his peace of mind and you need to study!_

So thinking, she grabbed her book bag, overflowing with heavy textbooks, and heaved it out the door. Once at the library, Hermione had no trouble locating a quiet table. Most students had either left to catch a bit of weekend sunshine before the sunset or off for an early dinner. She was about to set her bag down on the table she frequented most often, when she spotted a familiar shock of blonde hair.

She saw he was bent over a book, poised quill steadily dripping ink on his half filled parchment, his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Eyes closed, he seemed intent on fighting whatever demon was plaguing him.

"Draco?" she softly called standing across the table. His head snapped up and he squinted at her for a second as though trying to make out her features.

"Granger?"

"Yeah…are you alright?" she asked, unable to hide her concern.

"Just peachy," he mumbled and promptly changed the subject. "Came to study?"

"Just a bit of head start-mind if I sit here?"

He answered by pulling the nearest chair out for her, moving his textbook to make room as she took the seat next to him.

"What are you working on?" she asked as she pulled out her notes.

"Potions. I'm a whole two essays behind," he sighed, "And I still haven't started on the Transfigurations stuff-have you finished?"

She nodded, feeling suddenly sorry for him. "I could help you if you want. I have my things with me."

She pulled out her essay when he didn't answer and slid it in front of him. He stared at the completed homework, wanting nothing more than to copy and then crawl into bed, but he knew it wouldn't help him in the long run.

"Thanks," he breathed, folding the parchment up again, "but I think I'll manage."

"Are you sure?"she was surprised that he'd turned such an offer down.

"Yeah, I need to understand this anyways."

She smiled. "Well, if you need help, I'm here."

He gave her a grateful nod and they lapsed into silence, both absorbed in their own work.

Hermione stole a glance at him from the corner of her eyes from time to time. She couldn't help it. He was just so…different.

He sat with elbows propped on the desk, back straight and eyebrows scrunched in obvious concentration. She had never known he was so diligent in his studies. Maybe, if he really did work this hard, he deserved the Head Boy post-despite his mistakes in the past.

She chewed her quill thoughtfully and was so deep in thought that she didn't realize she had been staring till Draco's grey eyes caught hers, throwing her a questioning glance.

"Something wrong?" he asked, frowning slightly.

Hermione had the decency to blush. "Oh, no-nothing!" she stuttered, "I just…spaced out."

He nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I find I do that a lot these days." He dropped his gaze, but not before she caught the exhaustion in them.

"Draco, are you sure don't need my help?"

He shook his head, blonde bangs swaying slightly. "Thanks Granger, but it's alright, I'm almost done."

Which meant he still had three more to go. She nodded, wishing he weren't so stubborn, and they lapsed back into silence. Hermione lost herself in the text-fascinated by the new Transfigurations topic they would be learning next.

She had always admired this particular branch. It was certainly difficult and having the strictest teacher didn't help make the material any easier, but she revered the subject because it was challenging. In that regard, Hermione had never had much interest in things she could readily do.

Time ticked as they worked away and at long last, Hermione raised her stiff neck, wincing at the crick. She made to stretch languidly and couldn't help but smile when eyes fell on her companion. He was dead to the world.

Quill still poised in a loose grip, Draco had fallen asleep on his half done essay. She noticed it was his third one and sighed, thankful he had managed to catch up. She checked the time: only twenty minutes till the library closed.

There was no one in their vicinity, most students having disappeared back to the dorms, and those few she could make out were either dosing, or too buried in their books to notice. Deciding she'd studied enough for once, Hermione packed her bag before leaning over to gently shake Draco's shoulder.

"Draco," she softly called, "Wake up."

He stirred only moments later and blinked at her groggily. "Wha-?" he mumbled, covering his mouth when a yawn stifled him.

"Library's closing-we better head back," she replied, fighting down a smile. He looked adorable, hair ruffled and the smooth creases in his face relaxed. His right cheek was slightly flushed where he had lain on it on his arm.

Hermione helped him gather his things and he dumped them unceremoniously in his bag, only taking care to roll his homework before slipping it in. He walked stiffly beside her, not awake enough to care that he was walking with the Golden Girl. There was hardly anyone about anyways-it was past curfew.

Hermione said the password and they entered the dorm. Draco headed straight for the couch, dumping his bag on the floor and stretching his limbs like an exhausted panther.

"G'night," he said, through half closed, a thin smile gracing his features.

She overcame her surprise and stifling a laugh, bade him an affectionate good night back. By the time she reached the stairs, he was already asleep.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder at the unconscious blonde, "You really are more tolerable than you let on and very brave."

She disappeared into her room only to return minutes later to cover him with a blanket.

* * *

_I should not have slept here, _Draco bitterly thought as he tried to sit up on the couch. It was still quiet dark out, although the rosy hue of dawn was just making itself visible over the horizon. Draco had been asleep for all of five hours before the throbbing in his limbs jarred him awake.

He tried to fight it off now as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, panting with the effort. Merlin, he was tired! His shoulders sagged and he slumped against the cushions, closing his eyes to stop the vertigo. He felt sick.

_They can't expect me to keep going like this, _he thought. Hogwarts was no place for invalids. It was a school and how was he supposed to play the role of a student when he could barely stay on his feet?

He groaned when his stomach suddenly churned and forced himself to swallow the bile that rose up his throat. He hadn't been eating too well, unsurprisingly enough, and the side-effects of the pain potions didn't add to his comfort.

Snape had told him yesterday after dinner to come and pick up the new potions. He said they would be ready by this morning. Draco wanted nothing more than to chug all of it down and fall into a dreamless sleep, but right now, he had to get to the bathroom before he painted his clothes and the carpet in vomit.

Shoving aside the blanket he didn't remember crawling under, Draco rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled like a man in the dark towards the staircase. He leaned heavily on the barrister as he made his way up and had to crawl on his hands and knees when his legs gave way.

_Come on Draco, almost there, _he thought as he stopped to catch his breath. He could feel the perspiration running down his forehead and his vision became hazy as though in a fog. He squinted, trying to focus his eyes, but his head gave a vicious throb, and he curled up on the carpet with a moan instead.

_God, I feel so pathetic! _he thought and shivered. His hands clutched his head, which was throbbing increasingly, and he vaguely wondered if he should call for help.

_You're not going to die from this, _he bitterly reminded himself, _You still have ten years…_

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing the blinding light to go away. He wished whoever was moaning would stop and leave him alone. All he wanted to do was sleep…sleep, maybe forever.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a start. Something had pricked her unconscious. She sat still in the darkness, until the soft sound reached her again. Thinking and hoping that Crookshanks was back, she slipped into her fuzzy slippers and scrambled to her door.

When she peaked out ready to greet her cat, the sight of her roommate startled her.

"Draco!" she cried falling to her knees by his side.

He moaned as though in pain and if he heard her, he didn't respond.

"Draco, are you alright?" she pressed, realizing that he was perspiring, in obvious pain, and far from alright.

She cautiously brushed back his damp bangs and felt his forehead. He was burning. Hermione bit her lip, wondering what to do. She knew she had to get help, but she couldn't leave him alone.

Thinking she could try keeping him warm first, Hermione shook his shoulder, trying to get him to wake.

"Draco? Draco, if you can hear me, please open your eyes!" She knew she was panicking, and tried to keep her voice calm for his sake.

When his eyes slowly opened to reveal cloudy grey moons, she sighed in relief.

"G-Granger?" he bit out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, we have to get you to bed. You've got a fever. Do you think you can stand?"

He didn't reply, but began to push himself up. Hermione rushed to help, holding his arm and helping him pull himself up slowly. He swayed, grimacing in pain, and let her swing his long arm over her shoulders.

She snaked her other arm around his waist and together, they clumsily made their way to his room. Hermione deposited him on the bed and then flicked the lights on, but he grumbled for her to turn them off again.

"What's the matter?" she asked when he doubled over, cradling his head in his hands.

"My head," he gasped, "It's killing me, Granger!"

"Maybe I should go get someone…Do you think you'll be alright?"

He nodded, but stopped suddenly with an audible wince. "Professor Snape-can you get him?"

"Yes-Yes, I'll be right back!" and she hurried out the door.

He could hear her footsteps as she ran downstairs and out the portrait hole. Curling into a ball, he whimpered in pain as his head continued to throb. Merlin! This was worse than a migraine! It felt as though a hundred hippogriffs were plundering him under their claws.

His stomach turned and he groaned. He had to get to the bathroom. Clutching the bedpost, he shakily pushed himself up and willed his trembling limbs to carry his weight. Trying to stave off the dizziness, he somehow managed to stagger beside the toilet and collapsed on the cold floor. He had barely gripped the seat when the meager contents came surging up his throat. He retched, coughing miserably.

His stomach cramped and he clutched it weakly as he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. He heard footsteps and then Snape was beside him, peering into his face and feeling his forehead.

He handed him a vial and told him to drink. Draco obeyed wordlessly, trying not to choke on the awful taste. He felt suddenly light and the dizziness seemed to ebb away.

"Can you stand?" Snape asked and he weakly nodded. Snape grabbed his arm and helped him up before leading him back to his bed.

He shoved another vial in his hands and ordered him to drink. This one, he explained, was for the fever. Another vial followed. And another. Draco assumed he had taken six before Snape finally told him to rest.

"No need to come to class tomorrow, Draco," he observed, "I doubt you'll be in any condition to leave the bed. Madam Pompfrey will be checking on you from time to time."

Draco croaked that he understood, feeling a wall of weariness descend upon him now that he wasn't keeling over. Snape gave him one last pointed look before sweeping out the room. Hermione stepped aside to let him pass. She had been waiting in the doorway while Snape helped Draco and once the professor had left, she stepped inside tentatively.

"Draco?" she whispered, wondering if he'd already fallen asleep.

"Granger," he answered just as quietly, his blond hair forming a strange hallow around his pale features in the dark. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she replied, coming closer to the bed. "I would have done just as much for any friend."

_So she considers me a friend, _Draco thought, somehow pleased with that knowledge. He regarded her silently as she stood wringing her hands in the hem of her pajamas. He knew she was trying to find the right words to express her sympathy, but Draco really didn't need it right now-although he appreciated her thoughtfulness.

"Draco-" she began, but he shook her head.

"Don't," he cut in. "This isn't your fault and there's nothing you should be sorry for."

She knew he was right, but she just _couldn't-! _There were no words to express what she was feeling. She wanted to-to _do something _to banish all this anguish! It was killing her to watch him in pain although she didn't understand why.

"Draco, if you need anything don't hesitate to call for me," she said, "and I really mean it. I don't care if it's the middle of the night, if you're in pain-or you're not feeling well, I demand to know, ok?"

He blinked at her sleepily and nodded. She gave him a thin smile before padding out the door, leaving his open his open on purpose. Hermione left her's open from then on as well.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_"There's one sad truth in life I've found  
While journeying east and west -  
The only folks we really wound  
Are those we love the best.  
We flatter those we scarcely know,  
We please the fleeting guest,  
And deal full many a thoughtless blow  
To those who love us best."  
_

_~Ella Wheeler Wilcox_

* * *

Draco stared out the window, a bit bored. He had been in bed for the better part of the day-dozing in and out-and now it was evening. He slowly turned on his side and traced the waning light with heavy eyes.

Pompfrey had dropped by every couple hours or so as promised. She had cut back on his pain potions, confirming that last night's sickness was due to the side effects of the one thing Draco needed the most.

He didn't know how long more he could stand this pain. Since morning his limbs had began to throb. It was only a dull ache, but every time he moved he was reminded sorely by his protesting muscles.

His head felt heavy, as though he had a lingering flu, and he was so tired that even if he could get up, Draco doubted his legs would support him for long. This was the fifth time he had missed classes, not counting all the days he was unconscious.

How much does that put me behind? he vaguely wondered, sighing as a wave of despondency washed over him.

He let his thoughts spiral down, descending deeper than he usually dared wander. He was being taken care of here at Hogwarts without his asking, but what would happen to him after this year? he wondered. Draco didn't fancy living with his mother for the rest of his life. As much as he loved her, he knew she needed time alone and that being with him reminded her too much of her husband and sour past.

Maybe they'll let me stay here, he thought, knowing that it was impossible, but allowing himself to hope anyways. He had no one else to turn to after all.

"Draco?" the soft voice followed by a knock brought him from his thoughts and he glanced over his shoulder to see Granger standing in the doorway, still carrying her bag of books.

"Granger…Classes done for the day?" he asked, rolling onto his back and carefully sitting up against the pillows.

"Yeah," she smiled, walking in and standing by his bed. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Better than last night, I suppose."

Her smile faltered and Draco felt bad for rubbing his misery on her.

"The fever's gone," he continued, "And she said I could go to class tomorrow if I feel up to it."

Her lips twitched again at that and Draco mirrored her smile, thinking he liked how she looked when happy.

"That's great," she replied, "I asked the other professors for your homework and they've given you extra time to complete it. Professor McGonagall and Professor Vector said you needn't turn in this week's homework until your all caught up. Oh, and they said they can arrange tutors if you feel the need."

He nodded, relieved that at least the professors were willing to be lenient. He watched her as she shuffled in her bag, pulling out assignments and a sheaf of notes.

"You can use my notes to complete them if you like," she said, handing him the things. "And I can help you if you need it."

Draco took the parchments with a speechless nod, only catching his voice after the things had been deposited neatly on his side table.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat. "I don't think I'll need tutoring, but I won't mind your help."

Her smile widened at that. "Well, I'm glad you're accepting it."

He smiled back, admiring the way the sunlight highlighted the brown of her eyes. He gestured to his desk chair. "You can sit if you like."

Her eyebrows suddenly rose and she smiled mischievously as she pulled the chair. "I take it you've been bored. What did you do all day?"

He shrugged. "Nothing exciting-just sleeping. The pain potions wore off and Pompfrey cut back the dose so I've been more tired than before." He saw her smile slipping, so he promptly changed the subject. "Why? Are you thinking of keeping me company?"

"If you'd like."

Draco feigned surprise. "What? You mean you've actually got time to sit and talk?"

She laughed. "Alright you, enough teasing and as strange as it sounds, I actually enjoy our conversations-when you're being civil that is."

"Oh? Has the Gryffindor queen finally met someone to match her wit? Although if those two are anything to go by, it can't be that hard to top-"

"Hey! I thought we agreed not to pick on each other's friends."

"The agreement was only that I'd stop calling them by their designated names: Potty and Weaselbee. I don't remember promising anything more-"and when she opened her mouth, he quickly added, "-and anything more is clearly beyond me."

Hermione frowned. "They're not that bad you know, and I honestly think you three will get along fine if you gave it a chance."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Really, Granger, with our history, especially between Weasley and I, I seriously doubt it."

"But Harry believes you've changed-he told me," she eagerly pressed, remembering their conversation a couple weeks back.

Draco rolled his eyes, guessing all too well that this had something to do with that detention in the dungeons. "Oh please, naive Saint Potter wouldn't be able to tell a lie if it bit him on the arse-but enough of that. You promise you won't try to convert me to join your Golden Triumvirate and I'll promise not to insult them when you're with me."

"I'd like it if you didn't insult them even when I'm not with you."

"Oh, now that's going a bit too far-"

"What is it between you anyways?"

Draco blinked at the sudden question. "What-"

"I mean," she cut in, lost in her own thoughts now, "I admit you were a right prat from the start and I know now that you didn't like Ron because of what went on between Mr. Weasley and your father, but why hate Harry too? You didn't even know him until Hogwarts!"

Draco scowled at her, wishing she would just let the past lie, but he had known sooner or later these topics were bound to come up. Granger was too inquisitive for her own good. It was no wonder she got on so well with nosy Potter.

"He refused my friendship when I gave him the chance," he finally replied, but even as the words escaped him, he could feel their childishness.

Hermione laughed and tried to muffle her giggles when his frown darkened.

"What?" he scoffed, "Potter was a right prat too, you know. I bet Weasley brainwashed him with lies and-"

"Draco," she managed, "there's no need to get riled up. I know we were all a bit-"

"Dimwitted-"

"Immature, but it's all in the past now and I was just simply wondering."

He nodded and sighed, sinking back onto the pillows, their argument having worn him out. Granger was eyeing him thoughtfully and he prodded her when he couldn't place her thoughts.

"What other memory lane are you trapezing down, Granger? If it includes me, it can't be fond."

She gave him a stern look that he would have found comical if he'd been more relaxed. As it was, the dull pain had taken over his spirits again and he felt himself sinking, all thoughts of being pleasant gone.

"I was actually thinking about how similar you and Harry are," she replied, wishing he would stop berating himself.

"Similar?" Draco cried, too shocked to register the pain as he bolted off the pillows. "You are insane Granger! If you think-"

"I do actually," she cut in and spoke quickly to override his interruptions, "You don't know Harry like I do-"

"You don't know me that well either," he reminded her.

"No, I don't, but from what I've observed, I can safely connect a few things."

He folded his arms and regarded her coolly, eyebrows arched in obvious arrogance. "Let's hear it then," he prodded in his best I-am-better-than-thou voice.

She smiled at his bravado before ticking off on her slender fingers, "Well, you're both impulsive, determined, stubborn as mules, utterly impossible to argue with, emotionally closed off-"

"All men are-"

"Not the sensible ones! They know to ask for help when they need it."

Draco rolled his eyes, biting back the snide comment that trickled to his tongue.

"-competitive, quick tempered, and you both love Quidditch even though I see absolutely no point in that violent game."

He pursed his lips as she gave him a wide smile and took a deep breath.

"Finished?" he asked and she gave him a satisfied nod.

"For now. Was I on the mark?"

He huffed. "For someone who's known me for less than three months? Adequate. You forget that Potter has absolutely no sense of humor and gives away his emotions like a free book. It's too easy to tease him, Granger. An amateur could do it."

"That just goes to show how manipulative you are and how innocent Harry is." She played his game because she sensed he knew she was right. Draco, she noted, always became defensive when someone stood a ledge higher than him.

Draco snorted, failing miserably to picture Harry Potter's "innocence". The git always knew more about what went on then he showed.

"Oh yes, St. Potter, the emblem of virtue," he sneered, wishing everyone would stop comparing him to the Gryffindor. First his father, then the world, and now Granger. Why could he never catch a break from his past?

Hermione wisely kept silent, seeing the shadow that had come over him. Perhaps she had teased too much, but she really couldn't help comparing him with Harry. They really were more alike than not and they were both great wizards, there was no denying that. If only Draco had received the same guidance Harry had…

"What are you going to do about dinner?" she casually asked, hoping to turn his sour mood.

He only scowled at her. "Seeing as I haven't been able to leave this godforsaken room for the past sixteen hours? Have it in bed."

Hermione sighed, knowing she had spoiled the pleasantries for the day. She peeked at him when she knew his scowl was directed safely toward the window and found herself smiling again as she watched.

She didn't know why, bust just being with him like this made her happy. Perhaps it was because he treated her like he would any other friend, regardless of her gender, or because of the fact that he didn't give a knut about her reputation.

Sure she had helped defeat the greatest dark wizard of their time and sure she was best friends with Harry Potter, but it didn't faze him. He was the same as ever-minus the rudeness, although that sometimes made an appearance when his mood turned sour. But he was much more bearable than before and Hermione found she liked this Draco-the one that didn't sneer all the time, and read muggle books, and was charming and intelligent…

"Draco," she said when she saw he was relaxed again, "Do you mind if I set another plate?"

He looked at her sullenly. "Don't tell me you plan to eat with me here."

"Why? Is that a problem?"

He shrugged, wanting her to stay but unwilling to admit it. "What'll you tell your body guards when they ask where you've run off to?" he bit out instead.

"Harry and Ron," she emphasized, "will believe me if I tell them I was in the library doing homework. It's not the first time I've skipped a meal."

"So, is that a yes?" she slowly asked when he remained silent, regarding her with those cool grey eyes.

Draco huffed and turned towards the window, but not before giving her the barest tilt of his head. He hid his smile when he heard her humming downstairs towards the kitchen.

* * *

"You know you could have just asked the house elves to bring a meal," Draco said as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Yes, but I like to cook," Hermione replied, licking the sauce off her finger before daintily picking up her half eaten sandwich.

"Nothing to do with elf rights then?" Draco asked, remembering her crusade in their fourth year. He had laughed at her then, but now he found her righteousness admirable, although it was hopeless when it came to house elves.

"I still want to do something about it-but I couldn't just ignore the kitchen downstairs. We've hardly used it. Besides, this isn't half bad is it?"

Draco swallowed a mouthful, agreeing that it was actually quite delicious, but Granger didn't really expect him to compliment her now, did she? That would be too nice.

"Acceptable," he replied after a moment's thought. "Perfectly adequate."

She quirked her eyebrows. "Well, thank goodness it agrees with Lord Malfoy's taste buds. I'd like to see you whip up a meal."

"Malfoy's don't cook," he automatically replied. Neither do they talk to Mud-Muggles, or eat Muggle made food, or be civil, or…

"And what it is it that they actually do?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing common. We have house elves to do all the chores."

Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice thoughtfully. "Then how did you spend your time at home?"

"Before all this Voldemort shit started? Leisurely. I wasn't home most of the time. I traveled a lot-went around Europe, to the Americas, down to Spain once or twice."

"By yourself?"

"No with Blaise mostly," he sighed then and set down his finished plate. "I can't believe how much time we wasted in frivolities. It makes me sick…looking back."

He stared at his hands, his lips pursed in a thin line. He had said too much. She didn't need to hear this-all about his pathetic thoughts, and wishes, and regrets. Merlin knows she had done more than enough for him already.

"Draco," her voice cut through his melancholy, "What is it?"

He frowned at the concern in her voice and refused to look at her. Nothing annoyed him as much as genuine sincerity. It was simply too good to be true. Why did she care about him? Who was he to her? Why did she want to help? And why oh why was she so good?

"Granger," he at last spoke, "I think you should leave."

She looked at him puzzled. "What?"

He met her eyes and quickly looked away. "Leave," he whispered.

Hermione set down her plate and rose to her feet. She took one step towards the door and paused when his eyes closed tight. She mentally cursed him and his stubborn pride.

"Draco what is it?" she prodded, knowing he wouldn't say otherwise.

"Nothing-"

"Liar. Just say it! I won't bite-"

"Why are you doing this?"

She started. "Doing what?"

He looked at her steadily, his eyes pained. "This-" he vaguely gestured at his empty plate. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

She sighed. "This again? I told you already: because I want to-"

"But why?" he cried. "Why all of a sudden? I don't understand. We hated each other Granger-hated! Do you know what that means? And now suddenly…" He took a deep breath and looked away.

Hermione gave him time to calm down. She could see his throat working up and down. It was sometime before he spoke again and his voice was hoarse.

"Look, I don't know why you're doing this, but I-Damn it Granger! Just what am I to you?"

She started when he rounded on her. His eyes were clouded with frustrated tears.

"Draco I-" she began, but suddenly didn't know what to say. What was he to her?

Certainly she had called him her friend and she knew she would have done just as much for Harry or Ron, but…Why was it that whenever she gazed into Draco's eyes and saw his pain, her own heart ached?

She looked at him now: at his rumpled clothes, disheveled hair, the bruises under his eyes, his defeated shoulders, his anguished features- and her arms trembled to hold him. She clenched her fists and bit her lip as he waited for her reply. A single tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. His cheeks were flushed, whether from humiliation, anger, or frustration she didn't know, but she couldn't quell the sudden urge that rose in her to touch him with her cool hands and absorb his heat.

"I don't know," she finally whispered.

He simply looked at her as if she'd never spoken, the tears gathering fast in his stormy eyes. He seemed so helpless and vulnerable-

Hermione's heart thudded madly in her chest as she neared him. Cautiously, as though she were approaching a wounded animal, she sat beside him on the bed. His eyes never broke eye-contact with her's and he remained still when she slowly raised her arm.

Hermione let the back of her cool hand brush his warm cheek. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, shivering slightly.

"I don't know why," Hermione repeated, more to herself than to him. She tried to convince herself that she really didn't know. She wanted to believe that she cared for him only as a friend as her fingers brushed away his tears. She wanted to believe that she didn't want to hold him-to feel him-to banish his pain if only for a time.

She tried to convince herself that this was only her caring nature invoking this need to comfort him. But the woman in her disagreed. The woman in her wanted to hold this trembling man in her arms forever-as though her embrace were his safe haven. The woman in her wanted to taste that porcelain skin-to ravish those thin lips…

She leaned forward unconsciously. Her breath ghosted over his parted lips and he trembled violently. Draco felt her soft lips brush his briefly before she drew back. He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, her face mere inches away.

He traced her soft features, noting the curve of her nose and long lashes. Up close, she really was beautiful-doll like even with her small forehead, large brown eyes, and curling strands of hair cushioning her fair face. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly gone dry.

"Granger," he croaked, but she suddenly shushed him.

Her finger pressed against his lips and he was aware of her eyes as she drank him in the same way that he searched her. When she made no move to drop her arm, he clutched her wrist and slowly pulled her finger away from his lips. She was so soft…He could feel the pulse in her wrist as it went erratic at his touch.

She wants me, he suddenly realized, And I need her…

His eyes dropped to her rosy lips-so full and moist. Tentatively, he leaned forward and paused, his lips a mere centimeter from hers. He looked at her closed eyes and eyebrows tensed with anticipation.

When he was sure she wouldn't push him away, he pressed his lips to her's. They parted in welcome and he felt her sigh. Draco closed his eyes and took her deeper, nibbling her lower lip gently. He felt her other arm snake around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Encouraged, Draco deepened the kiss. He slipped his tongue in her mouth and smiled when she gasped, but didn't pull away. He released her wrist and her arm immediately wrapped around his shoulders. He let his hand rest on her waist, tilting his head to twirl his tongue around hers.

She moaned then and Draco felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine at that sweet sound. He tasted the roof of her mouth and she hummed. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she bravely ran her own tongue over his teeth, making him gasp. She bit his lip before pulling away to catch her breath.

Both panted unsteadily and looked at each other with new understanding. Draco was the first to find his voice.

"This is crazy," he whispered and Hermione laughed shortly.

"I know," she breathlessly replied, "I know, but I can't help it, Draco! I think I-well, I like you."

And Draco smiled when her cheeks reddened. He brushed back her hair from her cheek before cradling it in his palm. His thumb traced her swollen lips and she reveled in the feel of his coarse fingers.

"Hermione," he murmured in a husky voice and she felt her heart stop. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She heard him inhale deeply, as though her scent soothed him, and murmured her name again.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms about his back and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. Turning her head to the side, she bit his ear and felt him shudder.

Something warm cradled her heart and in that moment, she felt happy enough to die without qualm. Having him in her arms like this was that comforting. She fell back on his bed, pulling him down on top of her.

He nuzzled her neck and murmured something unintelligible, hugging her tightly as his limbs grew heavy. Long after he fell asleep, Hermione lay awake, tracing patterns on his back. She couldn't stop smiling.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."_

_~ Mother Teresa_

* * *

Hermione knew all happiness is short-lived. The moment she awoke from her blissful nap and became aware of the warm body lying peacefully next to her, unexplainable guilt filled her. He had slid next to her in his sleep. Their legs were tangled together and his arm was thrown carelessly across her waist. Her own fingers clutched his shirtfront, as though even in sleep she couldn't bear for him to pull away.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly before staring at his slack features. She knew what she was feeling for him was more than friendship. How or why, she didn't know. Only one thing made sense to her: that she wanted to be by him-wanted him to need her and seek comfort in her. But she wondered if he felt the same way.

She had confessed to him, but he hadn't done the same. True, he had kissed her first, but…what had he meant by it? And, if he did like her, how would she break it to the others? How would she break it to Ron?

Her heart sank at the thought of her best friend. Whether he had realized it or not, she knew Ronald Weasley liked her-perhaps had liked her since their third year. But he treated her no different than as a friend, and Hermione was getting confused. What she used to feel for him, was fading now that she had Draco. She couldn't look at Ron the same way.

Was what she felt for Ron a mere infatuation-or was that the case with Draco? She sighed and glanced at the sleeping boy beside her again. _How long is he planning to sleep?_ she wondered. Cautiously, so as not to wake him, she took his slender arm from around her waist and slipped her fingers around his. Her hand seemed so small compared to his long one. His fingers were thin and reed-like-like a pianists'. She traced his shell pink finger nails-trimmed and polished, resembling the little aristocrat that he was.

She held up her own small hand next to his. It looked delicate, but there was nothing of the aristocrat in her coarse palm and thin, but knobby fingers. Smiling unconsciously, she twirled her fingers about his again and felt his fingers twitch. He stirred, eyebrows scrunching in some invisible annoyance as he dragged her arm toward his chest before lying still again. Hermione turned on her side and leaned over him.

"Draco?" she whispered, her warm breath ghosting over his cheek. His eyebrows rose, letting her know he heard her, but he didn't bother to open his eyes.

"Draco, wake up," Hermione prodded, shaking his arm.

"Hn…" came his reply and he slowly blinked his eyes open. For a moment, he simply lay staring at her, admiring the way the evening light created a halo around her brown curls, before she shook him from his thoughts with a light prod to his shoulder.

"How long do you plan to sleep? It's almost six," she smiled.

He mirrored her smile and yawned. "That's the best I've slept in ages," he admitted flexing his fingers twined around her's. She watched as he turned her hand to trace patterns down her wrist with feathery touches.

His eyes met hers and read the questions swimming in her eyes. "What?" he innocently asked and she bit her lip, looking all the more nervous.

"Draco," she began, "About-about what happened-"

"What about it?" his fingers stilled, but he still held her hand.

She shrugged, "I was just-I don't know….never mind."

She turned away, feeling stupid. Why couldn't she just ask him?

Draco stared at her downcast eyes. "Did you mean it?" he asked, and she looked up.

For a minute, they only stared, before Hermione slowly nodded. Of course she meant it. She would never lie about something like this.

"But…why me?" he asked, still holding her in his level gaze. He saw how uncomfortable she was, but he had to know. If she was merely toying with him, he didn't think he could stand the hurt.

"I don't know," she quietly replied and he read the honesty in her chocolate eyes. "I thought-for the longest time that I liked Ron, but…I don't know. Seeing you like that yesterday, I just-Some part of me just couldn't hold back. I know I like you, Draco, but do you…feel the same?"

He cocked his head, his blonde hair ruffling beneath him. So that was what it was about, was it? He pushed himself up and held her firmly by her wrist. She looked at him anxiously as he leaned forward until their lips just barely brushed.

"I've never kissed anyone," he whispered, his breath warm on her moist lips. "You're the first girl who's made me feel this way."

He waited for his confession to sink in and sighed inwardly in relief when a shy smile crossed her lips. She played absently with his collar, her cheeks a faint pink.

"Draco Malfoy…who would have thought?" she murmured, and when she looked up, her eyes were laughing.

* * *

"Hermione, where were you?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed as she joined them for dinner. "You know we were going to come to the library looking for you?"

"Why?" she countered, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Because we thought you were lost in those tomes again, that's why," Ron replied through a mouth full of potatoes. "And we're going to see Hagrid after, remember?"

She did remember. They had agreed for a cup of tea with him-before curfew of course. Fang wasn't doing so well and they thought of cheering him up a bit with their lively chatter.

Hermione glanced at the Slytherine table, searching for the Head Boy. He was sitting in his usual spot and was slowly eating an apple, his eyes on his food. Blaise Zabini was talking animatedly next to him-no doubt trying and failing miserably to engage him in conversation. The rest of the Slytherins either ignored them, or spared them a frown.

Things still weren't looking good for Draco in his House and Hermione feared that if this kept up, Zabini would leave his side again-not that he was of much help to the blonde, but still…Hermione felt comforted knowing there was someone who would stand by Draco if he needed him.

"Hey, Hermione-"

"Huh?" she quickly dropped her gaze and saw Harry give her a quizzical look. He glanced at the blonde over his shoulder before finishing what he had been saying. "I was just wondering, how things are going in the dorm. I mean, he hasn't bothered you has he?"

And she knew he was tactfully asking after Draco's health. "No-not really," she replied, feeling guilty for hiding things from them, but knowing that Draco's illness was not her secret to tell.

"Oh, they figured out what was wrong then?"

"You could say that," she cautiously replied.

"Well, that's good," and Harry looked genuinely relieved.

Hermione gave him a smile of her own, feeling doubly guilty for hiding things. She knew that, as unreasonable as it may sound, Harry would understand. Sure, he might be angry at first, but he would eventually come around. He really did have a golden heart, and Hermione loathed herself for taking advantage of his naïve nature.

She glanced at Ron, watching him argue with Ginny over the upcoming Quidditch turnout. He looked so carefree…Sighing, she turned back to her food and forced herself to eat. It wouldn't do to be depressed over nothing. As long as Ron kept his feelings to himself, Hermione could pretend that they were simply friends. As long as he didn't confess, she could keep Draco a secret. She didn't want to keep Draco hidden-he didn't deserve that, but what choice did she have?

Hermione didn't like it when anyone was angry at her and so, if it meant she could earn their peace for time, then she would lie-just for a time. It wasn't the first time she had kept things from them after all, and it wasn't likely to be the last.

* * *

_She's down, _Draco noted as he casually glanced at Hermione from his spot in the back of the classroom. It was second period Arthimancy on a Thursday afternoon and Draco's head was buzzing.

His concentration had, unsurprisingly, wavered the past fifteen minutes and, with class almost over, he allowed his eyes to rest on his sole distraction. She of course, was too engrossed in the lesson to feel his searching gaze. Sitting in the row below some seats down, she was bent over her desk, furiously taking notes.

Draco wondered why she even bothered. She knew the lesson by heart better than Vector could explain. He shook his head, amused, and dropped his eyes to his own half-finished notes. Sighing, he flexed his sore elbow before picking up his quill.

_Ten more minutes, _he reminded, _Just ten more minutes till break…_

* * *

Hermione scrabbled to gather up her things. Her quill suddenly rolled off the desk and spattered ink all over skirt. Cursing silently under her breath, she stuffed it back in her bag before following the crowd into the hallway. She meandered through the wave of students and took the changing staircase to the fifth floor where the portrait of Belladonna greeted her.

"Pink Pygmies," she panted.

"Right you are, dear!" Belladonna hummed in her sing-song voice as she swung open.

Hermione clambered through, a bit out of breath from rushing.

"Took you long enough," Draco greeted from where he sat on the sofa, reading a text book.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile and dropped her things on the floor before joining him.

"Transfigurations?" she asked, pointing at his book.

"Hmm..." and he snapped it shut, casting it aside even as they both leaned towards each other as though drawn by a magnetic pull.

Hermione sighed when Draco's lips closed over her's. She snaked her arms about his neck, letting her fingers rake through his satin hair. Eyes closed, she savored him. It had been three weeks since they started going out and Hermione still couldn't get over his soft, almost sensual kisses.

"It's a Hogsmead weekend," she said as he nibbled her bottom lip.

"Mm…So?"

Hermione pushed gently against his chest as she titled her lips out of his reach. Unperturbed, Draco simply ducked his head to tease the soft flesh of her neck.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she replied, "So…I was wondering whether you'd want to go together."

He paused and looked at her levelly with his grey eyes. "Together?"

"Yeah, I mean, you haven't been out much and you haven't visited Hogsmead at all this year. It'll be fun to go, won't it?"

A slow smirk lighted Draco's lips. "Are you asking me out on a date Granger?"

Hermione blushed, but refused to back down. "It's perfectly normal to go on dates with your boyfriend."

"My, my Granger, someone's grown a backbone over the week," his tone was mocking, but his eyes laughed quietly.

Used to his sarcasm, Hermione simply grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a deep, satiating kiss.

* * *

The coming Sunday brought wind and a slight drizzle.

"Perfect day for going out," Draco grumbled as he pulled on his coat.

"Oh, well it's September," Hermione remarked, "It's only going to get colder." And she pulled on a coat over her sweater, stowing her gloves in her pocket as she reached for her scarf.

Draco watched her bundle up, wishing he could take her in his arms right now and squeeze the daylights out of her petite self. She looked so warm and…_squeezable. _

"You look like a colorful marshmallow," he noted as she pulled on her gloves, "A very edible colorful marshmallow. I could eat you right now-"

"Yes, how flattering," she retorted, acting annoyed to counter the rising blush on her cheeks. "And you look like a twig. You're going to freeze in that thin coat, Draco."

He frowned. "No I won't. I like the cold-"

"Say that when you're sick in bed with the flu," and over his protests, Hermione wound her spare scarf around his neck and made him wear her blue, woolen hat.

"I'm not wearing this!" he cried, reaching up to yank the hat off only to have it jammed upon his head further. "It's a girls' hat, Hermione! I can't possibly wear it!"

"Oh, but you look so _cute _in it, Draco," she cooed, patting his blue head. "Just ignore the flower there on the side and no one will be able to tell!"

He rolled his eyes, knowing that this was her revenge to his incessant playful banter.

"Fine, I'll be your girlfriend for the day if you kiss me now-"

"Now?"

"Now."

Hermione smiled at his pout and stood on her tip toes to press her lips against this. She felt him melt instantly and the next second, his arms were holding her to him, caressing the nape of her neck even as he let her dictate the kiss. They pulled away with a sigh.

"Was that acceptable payment?" she asked, batting her lashes and he, still dazed replied honestly, "Very."

* * *

Sorry for the late update! I'm currently in India and it's been hectic!

Next up: Draco and Hermione's Hogsmead date!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_"Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand." _

_~Emily Kimbrough_

Draco was flattered, truly he was. Having known Hermione Granger somewhat intimately for three weeks now, he couldn't imagine a more perfect girl. His crass comments about her blood seemed so petty and misinformed now that Draco cringed inwardly whenever his past memories haunted his mind.

He wished he hadn't been so prejudiced. Perhaps then he could have won this happiness a long time ago.

But Draco, surprisingly enough, was not the type to dwell in the past. He knew what he had done, where he had gone wrong, and now what to do to set things right. Besides, with the way Fate had decided to deal his cards, he didn't think he had a shot at winning.

_No, _he thought as he glanced at the pink cheeked, bushy-haired beauty beside him, _I'll take whatever hand Fate deals me and make the best of it. _

He didn't have much choice in the matter.

* * *

As predicted, Hogsmead was freezing. It was also less crowded than usual because many students hadn't bothered to venture outside, Harry and Ron included. Harry had decided to spend time with Ginny, while Ron had retired to bed, tired from their endless Quidditch practices.

Hermione was secretly glad they had chosen not to come along, saving her from making untrue excuses. It didn't escape her conscience that she was treating Draco like a dirty secret. He didn't seem to mind or care as long as she spent time with him, but it hurt her to keep things from her friends.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Draco asked as they walked through the wintry alley, hand in hand.

She knew he was just as nervous as she was about their first real date. She felt the tremors in his arms even as he fought to keep his voice cool and composed.

"Yes, Draco, I'm sure," she assured him. "We can't hide forever-"

"Word spreads fast," he interrupted her, "What if Weasel and Potter find out?"

She frowned, knowing exactly what would happen, but pushed the volcanic thoughts immediately away.

"We'll deal with it when it happens," she firmly replied and squeezed his hand, "For now, let's just enjoy. Merlin knows with the exams coming, we won't have much time to go anywhere later."

Draco fought the urge to point out that she could take the exams now and pass with flying colors, choosing instead to lead her down a desolate street. In the cottage-like houses that stood on either side in neat little rows, they spotted floating candles and glimpses of the Wizarding life through unshuttered windows.

For a time, they simply strolled, Hermione's arm linked in his, admiring the fairy-tale cottages before Hermione broke the silence.

"I'd like to get a house like that," she said, pointing to the last cottage standing aloof from the rest.

It was by far the smallest they had seen, but there was something about it that just made one stare. Perhaps it was the abundance of the flora and fauna tumbling over the little white fence in the small garden; or perhaps it was the round little door with the round little windows that glowed with a warm light of a promised fire inside.

"It certainly has character," Draco agreed, a bit startled by her humble taste.

"It reminds me of the muggle fairy tales mum used to tell me," she said, "of Hansel and Gretel and Snow White. I think my love for reading stemmed from those picture books."

It began to snow as they spoke, and with one last glance at the closed door, Hermione followed Draco into the bustle of Hogsmead. They roamed around the shops for a bit before the cold beckoned them to Rosemarta's. She gave Hermione a bright smile and did not try to hide her suspicions about Draco.

They chose to sit in the back table just to avoid the narrowed eyes and frowns they received. Draco wished they would leave him alone if only for Hermione's sake. It didn't matter what they did to him when he was alone, but he hated to make Hermione suffer.

"Just ignore them," he quietly told her when she sent a death glare to the nearest witch who promptly turned away with a frightened squeak.

"I can't stand how they're treating you!" she whispered back none too quietly. "I wished they would just forgive and forget."

"Hermione…" and he held her gaze, calming her with his steady stare.

She sighed as Madam Rosemarta bustled over.

"And what will it be for you dear?" she asked with a smile, not even glancing at Draco.

Hermione smiled back sweetly, although Draco could tell it was fake.

"Two butterbeers for me and Draco, here," she replied, reaching out to clasp Draco's hand on the table.

For a minute Draco was sure she was about ready to curse the both of them out of her pub, but then she simply huffed, "Oh very well," before clicking away with a muttered, "The wonders of this world will never cease," floating behind her.

Draco grinned as Hermione cast him a triumphant smirk.

"That was quite Slytherin of you," he remarked, noticing that their hands were still clasped upon the table and neither seemed willing to let go.

"I learned from the best," she quickly replied.

"Oh, don't you make me proud," and his voice dripped with sarcasm.

They fell into playful banter till their drinks arrived. Draco let the ht drink warm him, shivering as his insides thawed. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to get a headache from wandering around in the cold.

Hermione kept glancing at him tentatively over the rim of her mug, debating whether or not to tell him. Tomorrow was the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor and she knew it was sure to draw crowds. The castle would virtually be empty and he never attended the matches anymore.

"Draco," she began and faltered when he rested his grey eyes on her. They unnerved her at times.

"What?" he asked and they instantly seemed to soften at seeing her discomfort.

Feeling braver, she continued, "I was wondering…are you busy tomorrow?"

He raised a thin eyebrow in an expression of amusement and curiosity. "I don't think so-why? Planning to ask me on another date?"

She gave him a thin smile to hide her nervousness. "No-well…sort of. You see, tomorrow's my birthday and I thought-well I kind of hoped to- "

"Granger, if you want me to spend time with you, all you have to do is name the time and place," he cut in softly, "And since it's your birthday, we're going to do something special."

She blushed. "You don't have to go out of your way Draco. I just wanted to hang out on the Astronomy Tower, undisturbed-"

"Done. Tomorrow evening, after classes, I'll meet you straight there before the Quidditch match."

She nodded, her heart already hammering with anticipation.

"Now come on," and he suddenly stood, holding out his hand for her.

"Where to?" she asked, taking his hand nevertheless. If he had asked, Hermione knew she would have walked blindly to the end of the earth with him.

He smirked, pulling her close to him and draping an arm around her waist before leading her out.

"Present hunting," he whispered in her ear and Hermione shivered, feeling suddenly happy and elated.

* * *

They spent a good hour wandering around the shops, looking at trinkets, books, clothes, and the like, but Hermione couldn't seem to decide what she wanted. Really, she knew in her that she already had what she wanted. She knew every time she looked at him, but Draco would not rest till he bought her something and Hermione was determined not to disappoint him.

He had impeccable taste. Whether it was due to his luxurious upbringing or his love for all aesthetics, Draco seemed to have a knack for spotting the very best from even a pile of junk. He made her try on various outfits and bought them all over her vehement protests. He bought her a gold watch that sang the time, a quill that was a hundred percent leak free, a book bag that became lighter the more you filled it, and was debating between entering the jewelry store or the books shop, when Hermione silenced his train of thoughts with a searing kiss right there, in the middle of Hogsmead with many eyes watching.

For a whole minute, he stood frozen against her. Then he slowly responded, parting his lips and letting her in, snaking his arms around her waist to pull her flush against him. The bags had long dropped on the snow-laden road and they were lost in each other's arms, aware of nothing else but their hot hands, and fervent lips, and thundering hearts.

When they pulled apart, Hermione's cheeks weren't the only one's tainted pink.

"Draco," she whispered, her breath warm against his flushed lips. "Let's head back."

And he, dazed, shocked, and little tipsy from a feeling he couldn't name, only nodded.

* * *

They walked back hand in hand, no longer caring whether anyone saw them. The moment she had decided to kiss him in public, Hermione had made up her mind to reveal the truth to anyone who dared ask. She was tired of keeping him a secret-tired of battling her conscience. She was prepared, come what may…or she thought.

They didn't speak as they walked. He carried the bags in one hand, the other linked with Hermione's. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting his warmth seep into her. She felt so comforted and _safe _around him. It was as though his mere presence was a salve to her soul.

Draco for his part was eager to get back into the privacy of their dorm so he could snog her senseless. What she had done was both reckless and stupid, and the implication was not lost on him. He knew now how much she cared for him-how much she was willing to risk. The thought made him both happy and troubled.

If anything were to happen to her because of him…

She stopped suddenly in view of the main entrance and he stumbled to a halt beside her.

"Hermione, what-?"

But she was staring transfixed in horror. He followed her gaze and his eyes grew wide. There on the steps, stood Potter and Ginny Weasley, twin scowls painted on both their lips.

* * *

Note: I realize this chapter was shorter than the rest, but I didn't want to clutter it. I'll try to maintain an equal length throughout the story.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_"Soul meets soul on lover's lips."  
~ by Percy Bysshe Shelly _

* * *

"H-Harry!" Hermione stuttered, feeling Draco squeeze her hand in his reassuringly.

Ginny's frowned deepened when she saw their clasped hands. "I can't believe this!" she cried, throwing a scathing look at Draco. "I thought you liked Ron, Hermione! But if you didn't, I can't believe you would cheat on him with-with that git!" and she pointed accusingly at Draco, who remained surprisingly silent.

"I'm not cheating on him," Hermione replied, "We weren't going out-"

"No, but you know he likes you! The least you could have done is given him a chance-"

"For how long Ginny?" Hermione cried, "How long did you expect me to wait? I know he likes me and I thought I did too, but-"

"What did he bribe you with?" Ginny cut in.

Hermione started. "What?"

"Oh, don't play innocent! Tell me, _Hermione, _ has he satisfied you yet? Who are you planning to sleep with next-"

"Watch your mouth Weasley," Draco warned, steeping in front of Hermione when Harry whipped out his wand.

"Don't tell her what to do," Harry countered, his eyes narrowed.

Ginny, ignoring them both, spoke straight to Hermione, "I knew you were desperate, Hermione, but I didn't think you were desperate enough to have _that _scum! I'm glad you revealed your true colors before my brother made the mistake of choosing you!"

And with those harsh words, she turned heel back into the castle. Harry dropped his arm and hesitated just briefly when he saw the tears welling up in Hermione's eyes. But in the end, he turned his back on her as well.

* * *

"Hermione, don't do this to yourself. They'll come around," Draco tried to reassure her for the hundredth time, trying to coax her from the pillow she had been crying into for the past hour. They were in her room, on her bed, and Draco's attempts at comforting her thus far had been futile.

He stroked her back, held her hand and kissed it, played with her hair, but an hour later she still hadn't show signs of calming.

"You're Gryffindors," he said, " You can't stay mad at each other forever."

But she shook her head. "Gryffindors value loyalty," came her muffled sob.

"Yes, but they value friendship more." That seemed to calm her shaking a bit. She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, her red eyes incredulous.

Draco reached out and brushed wet strands stuck to her cheek. "If I know Potter at all, he'll come around and convince Weasley as well. Give him time. You know he's probably battling his conscience right now."

She smiled weakly at that. _Harry is the sort of person to berate himself, _she thought.

Draco suddenly took her arm and tugged. "Now if you're done crying a river, what do you say we grab a bite? I'm starving."

She let him pull her up. When he led her down to the kitchen, she looked at him puzzled.

"Aren't you going to call a house-elf?" she asked when he opened the cooler and stuck his head in.

"Nope, I'm in a bit of a mood-," he said, pulling out two tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers, "-for a healthy sandwich made by this wonderful cook with chocolate eyes." He handed her a knife and slid the cutting table toward her. "Make me a sandwich?"

Hermione smiled and, wiping her eyes hastily on the sleeve of her shirt, began chopping up the vegetables. Draco lingered behind the counter, watching her work. He wanted to lie down on the couch, feeling the weariness creep up on him now that the recent excitement was over, but he didn't want to give her any cause to worry.

So he braced all his weight on the counter and smiled while Hermione chatted, her voice gaining color now that she felt a bit better.

"I was acting silly, wasn't I?" she was saying as she spread butter in the bread. "I mean, we had steeled ourselves for whatever anyone else had to say, right? And then I cried like a baby…" she laughed softly, more at herself than anything. When she looked up, there was an expression in her bright eyes that Draco could not place.

"Thank-you," she said, reaching out her hand which he took in his warm one. "If you weren't there, I might have said something I'd regret."

Draco meekly accepted her gratitude, knowing that in his own shoes, he owed her much, much more.

* * *

Late that night, after they had retired to bed, Hermione was woken up by a knock on the door. She untangled herself carefully from Draco's arms before silently making her way downstairs. Harry stood in his pajamas, holding the shimmering Cloak over his arm.

"Hermione, can I talk?" he asked uncertainly and she stepped aside to let him in.

They sat on the sofa, facing each other. Harry played with the loose end of the Cloak as he tried to find the right words, but Hermione, having guessed what was in his mind, spoke first.

"You don't have to apologize, Harry," she said and he looked up, startled. "I know I should have told you first, but…"

"No, I'm still sorry for what Ginny said. I should have stopped her," he replied, "She's just angry because Ron is, you know…"

"Yeah…how is he?"

Harry shrugged. "Shocked, angry, heartbroken…He was having a right fit, mainly because it's Malfoy I suppose."

"He won't talk to me now, will he?"

Harry sighed. Hermione knew how much he hated being in the middle of their fights. "He may hate you for a bit, but he'll come around. You just need to give him time."

"And Ginny?"

"I talked to her. She's still mad, but with time she'll probably come to."

Hermione nodded, glad that she had at least Harry on her side now. "What about you?" she timidly asked.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but looked right at her when he spoke. "I was shocked at first too-I mean it is Malfoy, but then…I remembered how he's changed and that maybe, if you're such a positive influence on him, he might not be that hard to put up with. I still think he's a right git though."

Hermione rolled her eyes when he smiled and couldn't help grinning back. Her heart felt light.

"How long?" he asked.

"I don't know," she honestly replied. "We sort of became friends and then I just came to realize how much I wanted to be around him. I felt as though he needed me, Harry, and that if I left, I'd leave behind a part of me and never be whole again. It's a really weird feeling, but…it made me realize how much he means to me, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I sort of feel the same way with Ginny."

"She's not mad at you is she?" Hermione suddenly asked, not wanting her problems to create a rift between them.

"No, she's a bit stubborn, but no. Ginny, I think, realizes that what she said to you wasn't fair. I think she regrets it."

_Good, _thought Hermione, _maybe that will teach her to think before she speaks._

But of course, she didn't voice her opinion. They chatted for a while more until neither could keep their eyes open. Hermione saw him out the door and they both parted with smiles upon their lips.

* * *

Sometime later, Draco awoke. He felt hot all over and wiped his perspiring forehead with a trembling hand. He was aware of Hermione sleeping peacefully beside him in the dark, one arm lying casually across his chest. He untwined his other arm from around her waist and slowly rolled onto his back.

He felt ill-not in a nauseous sense, but his limbs were weak and his head throbbed dully. He swallowed and his throat burned. Tentatively, he licked his lips, hating how dry and chapped they were.

_What now? _he mentally groaned. He knew he didn't have fever because he was burning up instead of shivering, and he knew he didn't have a cold. Was it some sort of side effect? But Draco didn't remember taking any strange potions. He had stuck to his regular dose of pain potions and the fever reducer that Snape had prescribed.

Craning his neck, he checked the time: 4 am. Dawn was already creeping up behind the closed curtains. He lay simply watching the rosy rays for a time. His eyes drooped with sleep, but his aching limbs didn't allow his mind to rest.

Hermione stirred next to him and pulled him closer unconsciously in her sleep. Despite himself, Draco couldn't resist the smile that touched his lips. Slowly, he brushed the hair from her cheeks and stroked them lightly.

His smile suddenly faded though when he remembered it was her birthday today and he had promised her something special. But he doubted if he could even climb out of bed much less the Astronomy Tower. He was mentally cursing himself when she opened her eyes.

"Hey," she smiled and made to brush the blonde strands stuck to his forehead.

Draco tried to smile back, but it came more as a grimace. Hermione's cool hand traced his hot forehead. He could see the frown forming on her pursed lips.

_Great Draco, _he thought, _She's not even awake and you've already drained all the happiness. _Why couldn't he hide his pain better?

"Did you take the potions?" she softly asked, her hand lingering on his cheek. He nodded, but immediately stopped when his head gave a vicious throb.

"Do you want me to get someone-Professor Snape?"

He licked his lips. "No…I'll be fine," but his voice was far too weak to be of any assurance.

She sat up, clearly frowning. "Draco," she began, but he, knowing what she was about to say cut in,

"I know, 'Mione. Just…let me stay like this for a bit. I don't think I can get up anyways."

Her features sank into a worried mask, but she erased all traces of concern the next second and sank beside him, sidling closer so that her head rested upon his shoulder.

They lay still for a time. Hermione was content to listen to his heart beat as his chest rose and fell steadily. He stroked her hair for a bit until his hand grew heavy. Thinking he had fallen asleep, she raised her head, but found his eyes tracing the ceiling, looking tired and restless.

"I feel awful," he whispered and then, "I'm sorry."

Hermione blinked. "What for?"

He looked at her steadily, as though she was lying that she didn't know, but then replied, "For ruining everything. It's your birthday-"

"Draco-" and she silenced him with a peck on his lips before he could finish. "It doesn't matter. We can celebrate it some other time when you're feeling well."

"It won't be the same-"

"No, but it only matters to me that you're alright." She traced his dry lips with her finger. "We shouldn't have gone yesterday. It was cold-"

"Not your fault," and he clasped her hand firmly in his. "I don't want you thinking it's your fault-ever, do you understand?"

Hermione disagreed, but the seriousness in his eyes made her nod in silence. He sighed before relaxing his grip.

"Things like this will happen," he said, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'm not the same anymore. I can't have you feeling guilty around me and I don't want you to treat me like glass. As long as I'm here, Hermione, I don't want you to hold back."

"I won't," she softly replied. "And I don't pity you." She looked into his grey eyes in whose depths she could easily trace the pain he was desperately trying to hide. "I love you Draco."

His eyes widened just a fraction before he closed them. She felt him tremble as she leaned closer. When her lips closed over his, she let her eyes fall shut and succumbed to the feel of his hot mouth as their tongues danced together.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_"To get through the hardest journey we need take only one step at a time, but we must keep on stepping."_

_~ Chinese proverb_

It was two days to Christmas holidays and Hogwarts was buzzing with holiday spirit. The decorations this year were more flamboyant to mark the end of the war. The Great Hall shimmered with reds, greens, and golds. Live doves fluttered about the castle and mistletoes grew wherever earnest lips met.

_Yes, old man Dumbledore is really having fun, _Draco thought as he dalloped a spoon of chocolate pudding and reached for his mug of hot chocolate, floating with fat white marshmallows.

He glanced around the table gloomily, knowing this was the first time he would have to remain at the castle. Bitterly, he realized that even Potter was leaving with the Weasleys. He knew Hermione would visit the Burrow and probably wanted to spend time with her parents, or he would have insisted she stay. There was no use spoiling her fun for his sake.

He finished his breakfast and traced his way to the library, thinking he might as well find some good books to divulge his loneliness. The place was utterly deserted. With the holidays coming, most students had given up on homework at the prospect of procrastination. Some, like his overly-smart girlfriend, had already started on their holiday work.

He skimmed the titles in the potions section, letting his fingers run over the dust covered, ancient spines. His eyes latched onto a particularly old book and he picked it up, dusting it lightly before cracking open the cover. The pages were yellow and smelled strongly of mold. He perused the front cover and found it dated back to the 18th century.

Intrigued, Draco held his breath as he scanned the pages, typed in an old font that made deciphering the words a little difficult. He read over the brews for a time, fascinated by some of the ingredients used and their effects, before the smell made his chest hurt and he had to snap the book shut. Coughing, he replaced the book and moved down the section, fanning at the air.

"Draco?" Her sudden voice startled him in his tracks.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked with a light smile when he didn't respond.

"Just…looking for something to read," he replied, and promptly changed the subject. "Had your breakfast?"

"Yeah. Harry was asking if I wanted to visit Hagrid later. Do you want to come?"

He shrugged, not particularly feeling welcome. "Not really…Can't we just stay inside?"

She raised her eyebrows and he knew she could see through his lie. "What's the matter?" she asked, rubbing his arms soothingly.

He leaned in to her touch and tangled his fingers through her unruly locks, letting his lips brush her neck, making her shiver.

"You're going away," he whispered. "I…want to spend time with you alone."

She drew back, startled. Her cheeks slightly tinged. "Draco! That-you just had to ask you know. And won't you be going home too?"

He felt his heart clench and looked away. "No. Mother's in Germany. I'll…probably spend Christmas here."

He heard her small sigh and then felt her slender arms snake about his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. "It's your first year without your father, isn't it?"

He snorted. "It's nothing like that and we haven't celebrated Christmas since the start of war." He didn't need to explain why. She understood.

She turned him around and peered up into his eyes. "Would you like to come home with me?"

He started, "What?"

"I mean it," she earnestly replied, clasping his hand tightly in hers. "My parents would love to meet you, Draco."

He shook his head. "No-I can't possibly-"

"Why not?" she retorted. "I don't see a problem with it."

"If my mother finds out…" He cleared his throat.

"She doesn't know, does she?" she quietly asked and he sighed, a bit wearily.

"She doesn't know a lot of things." He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Your parents really wouldn't mind?"

Her face erupted into a bright smile. "No, they'd love to have you! Will you really come?"

Unable to say no to such a hopeful look, Draco gave in, and found himself pulled into a warm kiss, unaware that an innocent mistletoe had announced their mischief.

* * *

The morning of their last day, they packed their trunks together, dumping their books in Draco's second trunk. Hermione pulled open her handbag and filled it with both their toiletries, knowing they would need them later.

"Are you taking anything to read?" she asked and he looked up from her stack of scarves he was stuffing into the bag.

"Um…no, that's fine. Did you take my comb?"

"Yeah-"

"Then that's all I'll need. I'm going to write Mother a note-let her know where I'm going. I'll be back."

She nodded and watched him go, a warm feeling engulfing her. She couldn't believe she was going to spend Christmas with Draco Malfoy at her house! Who would've ever thought-she shook her head. No, it wouldn't do to think like this anymore. Draco had proved he had changed over and over. There was no reason to doubt him anymore and no reason why she couldn't just accept these transitions. He was a part of her now, a part of her she couldn't imagine living without.

When she came down carrying her bag, she found him stroking the magnificent eagle owl as he carried it to the window and let him go. The owl fluttered out with powerful thrusts of its wings and he watched it go, looking a little…lost.

She cautiously touched his arm and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms about her shoulders and resting his chin on top of her head.

"I hope she takes it well," Hermione whispered and she felt him nod.

"Me too," he sighed, "Me too."

* * *

Needless to say, the Gryffindors were more than a little shocked when she came down with Draco in tow and told them of their plans.

"Malfoy…in muggle London?" Harry slowly said, as though saying it out loud made it more real.

"Really Potter, is it that hard to believe? I've been around the pubs before-without anyone's knowledge of course," Draco replied and Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but didn't press him. He had spotted Ginny trotting towards him and was determined to keep the peace.

"'Mione," he spoke quietly so that Ginny wouldn't overhear, "I've talked to her and …she's agreed to overlook the situation."

Hermione nodded, knowing this was no better. She was just going to ignore them now, but at least she wouldn't jab at Draco anymore. For his part, Draco remained silent as Weasley snaked her arm through Potter's and shared polite words with Hermione. She hardly looked at him but then, Draco wasn't dying for her attention either. Her brother, he noted, was nowhere to be seen.

He followed them to the waiting carriages, pulled by threstals. Draco raked his eyes over their sleek, black bodies which looked as though a sheet of leather had been stretched taunt over their protruding ribs. Despite their lack of beauty, they were fascinating creatures.

"Can you see them?" Hermione softly asked after they had all climbed in.

He nodded and added, "Since fourth year…you?"

"No, and I hope I never will."

Something clenched inside him at her words. He didn't know exactly why, but he suddenly felt nauseas. Turning his face towards the wind, he took deep breaths as the conversation picked up.

"So where's Ron?" Hermione finally managed to ask the question that had been eating at them all.

"He decided to bunk with Neville and Seamus," Harry answered and Ginny suddenly reached across to take her hand.

"I just want you to know, this doesn't change anything. You're still invited for Christmas at the Burrow…and," she added after a little shrug, "so is Malfoy."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thanks."

And Draco gave her a silent nod, appreciating that at least she was trying to be civil. He knew why they didn't favor him and he didn't blame them for it. His own father had tried to kill her and he had accidently poisoned her brother in an attempt to get Dumbledore.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and Draco tuned himself out to their idle conversations. As much as he had come to care for Hermione, he had no interest in learning about her friends, although Potter when alone was sometimes pleasant company.

So he wondered what Hermione's parents were like and how they would greet him. He knew they lived on the outskirts of London and fixed people's teeth for a living. Apparently it was a respected position, to be a _dentist. _

The carriage came to a halt at the platform and they made their way to the red and black steam engine as it blew its whistle noisily.

"I'm going to find Ron," Harry said once they had situated themselves in an empty compartment, "tell him where we are."

Draco wished he had brought a book as the two girls began gossiping. He watched the scenery flit by for a time, till the speeding train made him dizzy. Tearing his eyes away, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"Draco?" He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder and heard the concern in her voice.

"'M fine, just tired," he replied and sank down to rest his head on her shoulder. She brushed back her bushy hair and weaved her fingers through his, resuming her talk with Weasley and Potter, who had returned a while ago.

Draco dozed to the pleasant sound of her voice. When she laughed, her voice reverberated through him, lulling him to sleep on swift wings.

* * *

"…co? Draco, come one wake up…"

Draco moaned, but fluttered his eyes open. He shivered, feeling suddenly cold, and felt arms pulling him in a warm hug. He squinted in the yellow light of the compartment and saw his girlfriend's blurred face as she smoothed back his ruffled hair.

"Are we there?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Almost. You've been sleeping for more than five hours. Aren't you hungry?"

He nodded, perfectly content to sink back in her arms with a sigh. He didn't think the train's violent motion would let keep anything down.

"Where're the others?" he asked, noticing the empty compartment.

"Out to hunt the food trolley. It came by a while ago, but Ginny's hungry again."

"Oh…You didn't eat?"

"Had a pumpkin pasty. I've bought you a couple chocolate frogs, in case you want them later."

He nodded his thanks, sliding down so that his head rested in her lap. She smiled down at him and resumed stroking his hair. He hummed at her touch, reaching up to pull her down gently by her curls and tilting his head so that their lips met.

They kissed softly, as though savoring each other. He could taste the pasty on her lips. When they pulled apart, Hermione's cheeks were a furious pink, and Draco felt something rush through him at the knowledge that _he _affected her so.

The compartment door suddenly slid open and the two turned wide eyes at Potter and Weasley who walked in with arms full of assorted sweets and candy.

"Not exactly a healthy dinner, is it Potter?" Draco remarked, diverting his attention off Hermione so she could compose herself. That did nothing to hide her from Weasley's scrutiny however, and he almost rolled his eyes at her frown.

If Harry realized what they and been doing, he was awfully good at concealing his embarrassment. "Nope, but it's all they had. Want a pasty?" He held up the orange cake, but Draco shook his head.

"I already had some, Harry," Hermione said before he could ask, and then promptly changed the subject. "How long more do you think? I hope the weather doesn't stall us."

Draco heard the nervousness in her voice and casually sat up to spare her further discomfort. She laced her fingers through his though, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He gave her a small smile and turned his gaze out the window. It had begun to rain steadily and he knew it would get harder as they neared London.

He didn't mind. He so loved the rain and the cold. Involuntarily, he shivered. Now if only his body cold tolerate it…

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform at fifteen minutes to seven. There was a great buzz of students as they hurried out the compartments, flooding the platform in a flurry of color and robes. Families stood outside to welcome their children. Ginny hurried to the Weasleys and Harry followed. Hermione held Draco's hand as she led him to the group.

She spotted Ron as he bent down to hug Molly Weasley and her heart clenched.

"Harry! Hermione!" Molly cried embracing Harry before bustling over to her.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley," she smiled, giving her a one armed hug.

"Merry Christmas dear," she patted, her eyes straying to the nervous blonde beside her.

Hermione thought it as good a time as any. "Mrs. Weasley, this is Draco-you remember him?"

It was apparently the worn thing to say because she saw Molly's face darken. Of course she would remember the boy whose father had almost murdered her children. And then what Draco himself had done…

But then she saw their entwined hands and a small, sad smile graced her lips. "Of course dear, I remember him," she extended her hand and lightly touched his cheek. "Merry Christmas, dear."

Draco swallowed hard, and managed to nod, too shocked to say more. Hermione couldn't stop the tear that leaked from her eyes, but she hastily wiped them when she saw everyone had been watching the scene.

"You will be coming to the Burrow as planned, I hope?" Arthur said, "Both of you?"

Hermione laughed, "Yes, yes we will," she promised and looked to Draco who still seemed speechless.

He suddenly cleared his throat and held out his hand to Mr. Weasley. "I know this may be a bit late, but I want to apologize…for everything. What my father did-what I did-"

But Arthur didn't let him finish, clasping his pale hand in a firm shake and clapping his back good naturedly.

"It's never too late to start over," he replied.

Hermione caught Ron's eye, but he looked away and her heart sank. She wanted him to accept her again-to be friends. Hadn't they gone through a war together? Helped defeat the greatest dark wizard and saved the world? How long more, she wondered, would it take for him to forgive her?


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_"The greatest thing in family life is to take a hint when a hint is intended — and not to take a hint when a hint isn't intended." _

_~ Robert Frost_

* * *

"What just happened?" Draco asked as he pushed the trolley cart towards the barrier. They emerged from the barrier a second later and arrived onto the muggle station of London City.

"They forgave you," Hermione replied, looping her arm through his as they made their way towards the awaiting city buses.

"But they're supposed to hate me-and yet they invited me for Christmas!"

She laughed. "It's good, isn't it? Maybe now, you can start to forgive yourself."

He shrugged and all the incredulity faded off his face to bring about the haunted look in his eyes. "The Weasel didn't forgive you though."

"He'll come around," she easily replied, knowing that she couldn't burden Draco with her problems as well. "He just needs time-Ron's always been like that. He gets mad easily, like a toddler, but then eventually realizes his mistakes and is positively sweet after."

Draco noticed the sad smile dawning her lips and he bit his own to stamp the guilt that rose within. Not for the first time, he felt as though he had come between the two-spoiled both their happiness.

"We're going to have to board the bus," she said as they neared a bus stop.

"A muggle bus?"he asked and she nodded.

"I didn't want mum and dad to exert themselves by picking us up. It's late as it is and it's a long drive."

Draco understood. It was already seven. He supposed they would reach past eight. Hermione saw their trunks into the bus's luggage rack, ignoring the funny looks the man gave them, and led Draco inside the bus. They climbed a flight of narrow stairs to the top level and, after she paid for the tickets, chose secluded seats in the very back.

He sat next to the window and she sank against him, leaning into his embrace as they watched the bus pull away from the curb.

"We're almost there," she sighed, feeling sleepy.

He rested his chin atop her head and nodded. "Sleep if you have to. I'll wake you when we pass Surrey."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She was out like a light in minutes. Draco held her close, breathing in the sweet lilac perfume and marveling at the fact that this witch belonged to him for reasons he could not fathom. Really, what had he ever done to deserve her?

He watched the darkness descend on London and then a light rain began to fall, growing stronger as they passed Surrey. She was still deeply asleep and he was content to let her be till the station finally came in sight.

"Hermione? We're here," he whispered, gently nudging her awake. She mumbled something incoherent and cracked her eyes open.

"Hm?" she groaned, looking up at him bleary-eyed.

He smiled. "Wipe that look off your face or they'll think you've come home drunk."

"Who-oh!" and she sat up, scolding him for not waking her up earlier. She dove into her bag and pulled out a wipe, furiously scrubbing at her face before running a comb through her tangled mane. Draco watched her quietly, amused, and took his own comb out to settle his mussed hair.

They descended the stairs just as the bus lurched to a stop and followed the small crowd out. Draco went to grab their trunks while she searched for her parents. He had just secured their luggage when he spotted Hermione running into the arms of a slim woman who held an umbrella. A man in a trench coat joined them a minute later and the three hugged, talking and laughing excitedly.

For a minute, Draco was lost in their bliss. He thought, _this is how a family should be, _before reality reeled him back. The family was walking towards him now.

"Mum, Dad, I want you to meet Draco-the boy I told you about," Hermione introduced, tugging Draco's arm and pulling him closer.

"Hello Sir, Ma'm," Draco replied, shaking hands with both and feeling extremely out of his element.

Hermione's mother returned his greeting and didn't offer much more, but her father seemed much more comfortable. He picked up Hermione's trunk and Draco quickly followed with the other two as Mr. Granger began asking him questions about Quidditch, a sport which Hermione had never quite managed to explain.

Hermione and her Mum followed in their wake, and she was glad when he began talking with fervor, answering her father's questions politely, unable to hide the boyish enthusiasm.

"He seems different now then how we've seen him," Mrs. Granger spoke, breaking Hermione from her trance.

"Oh, yes, well we were younger than, weren't we? And he's really not the same he was before mum. Things've changed in the wizarding world-he's changed."

Mrs. Granger pursed her lips, intending to say more, but knowing this was not the time nor place. She asked after the Weasley's instead and Harry Potter, receiving animated and welcome news which she liked to hear.

Once in the van, with Draco and Hermione in the back seat while her father drove, silence ensued. Draco watched the London night life as they drove down the expressway. He had always flooed to the pubs and this sort of view was new to him. Hermione pointed out places of interest to him here and there and he listened, fascinated.

It was twenty minutes before they turned off the road and into a quiet street with rows upon rows of little quaint houses. The Granger's was easily among the largest. Their house was nothing like Draco had expected. A two story English home, it had a neat lawn and budding rose bushes. A tall fence separated the neighbors.

The windows of the house were large and welcoming. There was even a circular tower in the very back. Another car, a dark blue cruiser, was parked in the driveway. Up the flight of flat stairs they went into the house.

Draco appreciated the homely smell and feel of the thick rugged house. The living room was comfortably furnished with all sorts of muggle appliances. Hermione made her way up the spiraling stairs and Draco and her father followed with the trunks.

"Here's the guest room," she said, pushing open a door a ways down the corridor that had a large bed, desk, chair, wardrobe, and adjoining bathroom. A painting depicting lush bamboo hung over the bed. The walls, Draco noted, were a shade of green.

She followed him inside as he parked his trunk in a corner and pushed aside the curtains to gaze down the silent driveway.

"It's so quiet," he said as she joined him.

"Wait till seven in the morning," she chuckled, "Our neighbors like to announce their activities early on and the man across-Mr. Rogers-always mows the lawn when he's sure everyone is still sleeping."

He smiled and then suddenly turned serious eyes in her. "You're parents-are you sure they don't mind?"

She looked at him puzzled. "Why do you think they would?"

He shrugged. "Your mum seemed a bit wary-" he was going to say suspicious, but-

"You just leave them to me, Draco. They think you're still the snob we met back in the bookstore. They just need time to see for themselves, is all."

Draco wanted to believe her-he really did-but he knew there were some things that simply couldn't be forgotten, no matter how much time passed.

"Get some sleep," she whispered and they shared a brief kiss before she retreated out the room, enclosing him in darkness…

* * *

Hermione had known they would have to talk soon and so, she joined her parents in the living room.

"Hermione," her mother began, "Are you sure it is best to house the boy?"

"We thought you hated him," added her father, "and it's understandable, after the way he has treated both you and your friends."

Hermione sighed and clasped her hands, gathering her words patiently.

"I know. I used to hate him too, but he's changed mum and he's already friends with Harry. He's been through some tough times, just like we all have after the war. I'm not saying that I've completely forgotten what he's done, but if he's trying to be a better man, don't you think we should help him?"

Her father nodded, but he looked grave. Her mother, she realized, still needed convincing.

"What about Ronald Weasley?" she asked.

Hermione faltered. "Wh-what about him?"

"I thought you liked him."

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I did, but…Things change, mum. I see him just as a friend now."

"And this boy?"

"As something more." She raised her head high and stared unabashed at her parents. "He means a lot to me. I care for him more than I've ever cared for Ron-or anyone for that matter."

She sighed and suddenly seemed very small in the cushioned armchair. "He's all alone, Mum. Everyone hates him back at school for what he did and…"

"And?" her father pressed, but Hermione shook her head, fighting back tears. Bringing up Draco's disease wasn't her business.

"I just want to spend time with him," she replied once she was calm. "He had no one to spend Christmas with. That's why I invited him over, but if he's in the way, we'll-"

"No one's in the way," her father cut in. He reached over and clasped her mother's hand. "He's welcome to stay here, 'Mione, if he means that much to you."

And her mother nodded, giving her a small smile that Hermione returned with a bright thank-you.

* * *

Morning.

Draco blearily stared at the white ceiling, wondering for a second where he was before all the events flooded in. He was at the Granger's. He turned on his side to stare out the window. He could hear what had woken him: Mr. Roger's lawn mower.

Why did muggles use such noisy things? he wondered as he debated whether to leave the comfortable bed or not. Despite yesterday's long journey, he wasn't feeling worse for the wear and he was glad for that small mercy.

He couldn't imagine burdening Hermione's parents with his problems when they had been kind enough to share their Christmas (and their daughter) with him. Not for the hundredth time, he wondered why it had taken him so long to see the goodness in other people. Perhaps being marked by Death gave one clearer vision.

He smiled bitterly at the paradox and with a long sigh, shook his head. He didn't want to have ill thoughts in the morning. The door behind him suddenly creaked open and Draco lay still when he heard soft feet pad closer.

Something brushed against the blankets before a brown furball emerged from under the bed. It was a furry little kitten. It dropped on its skinny rump before him and fixed him with the cat-like eerie stare.

"Not a stray, are you?" Draco asked when the animal began to lick its paws. He watched it for a time, marveling at it' s narrow, pointed face and golden eyes, before his own necessities drew him to the bathroom.

When he emerged, the kitten had jumped onto his bed and made quick work of disheveling his blankets. Draco crossed over to the window and peeked through the curtains. London was as dreary as ever, a light fog clinging to the otherwise deserted street. He watched a bearded man cut the grass with some hulky cart that was making all the noise. A car some ways down backed out of its driveway before speeding away.

Everything seemed peaceful and it filled Draco with an unexplainable calm. He sat back down on the bed, knees drawn to his chest, and watched the kitten as it pawed the blankets. Tentatively, he stretched his arm out. The animal paused to look at him, its ears taunt. Draco leaned closer and when he was sure the kitten wouldn't chew his arm off, brought his fingers down on its head. He scratched it behind its ear and it purred, edging closer till its legs brushed Draco's.

"Not so fierce, are you?" he murmured and laughed when the kitten planted its front paws on his knees and stretched, showing off its canine teeth with a large yawn.

"I see you've made friends with Clyde," came a voice from the door and Draco looked up, smiling when Hermione padded inside. She was wearing flannel pink pajamas and her hair was as messy as ever. Still, Draco couldn't help thinking that she looked beautiful.

"Clyde, huh? Is he a Kneazle?"

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked as she took a seat across from him. Clyde bounded into her lap and demanded to be petted.

"His general mannerisms. Normal cats aren't so wary and he hardly jumps if you do anything unexpected."

"He is. I had another Kneazle, back at Hogwarts. He hasn't returned since the war. I guess I bought Clyde just to keep me company."

Draco watched Hermione cradle the fur ball as though he were a baby and laughed when she tickled him, making Clyde squirm and hiss playfully.

"Do you have any pets?" she asked.

"Hm…I had a snake for a couple years."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He grinned and straightened his legs when Clyde jumped over to him. He let the kitten climb into his lap, where it curled up, his back to Hermione.

"He's sulking," she informed him. "He doesn't like to be tickled."

Draco brushed Clyde's soft fur, feeling the animal's warmth seep into him.

"Father bought me parakeets once, on my fifteenth birthday. I had them for almost a week. They were beautiful to look at-shades of blue and a dark beak."

"What happened to them?" she asked when he continued stroking Clyde.

"Nothing. I set them free-couldn't stand seeing them in a cage. Father wasn't too pleased, they were expensive after all, but I think he understood."

Hermione nodded and silently watched him as he picked up Clyde and touched his nose to the kitten's. She didn't know why, but she felt suddenly sad watching him interact with her pet.

"Ready for breakfast?" she asked, hoping to distract her own thoughts.

"Are your parents up?"

She nodded. "They ate and left for their morning walk. We have the kitchen to ourselves."

He smiled and set Clyde down as Hermione stood. "I'll be down then."

Hermione closed the door as she left, Clyde trailing in her wake like a faithful little puppy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_"It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience."_

_~ Julius Caesar_

* * *

They had pancakes for breakfast. Draco stood next to Hermione in the kitchen, watching her smooth the cakes on the hot pan in amazement.

"So what is that thing again?" he asked as she fiddled with a dial.

She laughed, but replied patiently, "An electric gas. You can control how hot you want the pad to be and it works magnetically."

"Magne-tick-alley," he slowly mimicked. "Muggles are curious, aren't they? What's that box that speaks called?"

"The tele?"

"Tele," he repeated. "Blaise told me he tried one at a muggle pub once. You put coins in and punch in numbers and you can talk to people through this handle with holes."

She giggled at his descriptions. "That's a telephone. We have one in the house. Everyone has a different house number and when you dial it, you can talk to the people."

"Ingenious," he whispered. "I'm sure a lot of wizards have thought so, but muggles do have neat ways to get around magic. Still, all their things are so bulky: the cars, the lawn cutter, the tele…You'd think they'd shrink things down to make more room once in a while."

She agreed and then explained some ways in which things had shrunk down, technologically speaking. It only served to confuse Draco more, but he kept silent the rest of the time as he mulled things over.

Hermione dolled a stack of thin pancakes on both their plates and grabbed the syrup before leading Draco to the dining table. Draco watched her pour the syrup over her pancakes and fork a piece out before digging in. He mimicked her and a smile adorned his lips when the syrupy breakfast melted on his tongue.

"It's so sweet," he smiled.

"I thought you'd like it. Your sweet tooth happy?"

"Very!"

Clyde slinked his way under the table as they ate and Hermione paused to pour some warm milk in his dish before resuming her breakfast.

"I have to get his cat food before it runs out," she said. "Do you mind a shopping trip? We can pick up decorations on the way-mum always lets me pick them."

"You mean the muggle shopping place?"

"The mall, yes. It'll be an experience."

He gave in, knowing he didn't have anything better to do anyways.

"Dad's going to bring the Christmas tree in the evening-Oh! and I defiantly need to shop for presents. We'll have fun decorating the tree at night."

He smiled at her enthusiasm and listened as she rambled on about the presents she had planned for her parents and cousins and extended family. He had no idea she had such a large family spread out over England.

They finished breakfast and Hermione spelled the dishes clean before stacking them away.

"We should probably go now. Wear something warm."

He nodded and drifted upstairs to change. It felt strange being told what to do-by a girl nonetheless. He felt like a kid. Smiling at his own silly thoughts, he pulled on a grey sweater and socks before tramping down.

Clyde followed him halfway down the steps and brushed against his legs, purring loudly.

"What do you want?" Draco asked.

Clyde answered by standing on his hind legs and scratching Draco's things. Shaking his head, Draco bent down and scooped the animal in his arms, cradling him the way Hermione had.

"He's really taken to you," Hermione said as she searched for the car keys. "Clyde doesn't go to strangers so easily."

"Must be because he knows I'm a wizard. Kneazles can sense things other cats can't-they're weird that way."

"Ah! Found it!" she smiled triumphantly as she fished out a set of keys from under the coffee table and Draco set Clyde down before following her out the door. The kitten watched them till the door closed.

* * *

Draco sat nervously in the front seat of the Cruiser. He clenched his fists as Hermione turned the keys and something whirled to life.

"Put your seat belt on, Draco," she said and he simply blinked at her. "Let me-" and she leaned over, grabbing a belt behind his ear and strapping him in with a click!

He squirmed in his seats. "Do muggles enjoy being confined to their own death?" he asked as she eased the car down the driveway.

Hermione laughed. "The belt's merely a protection, Draco. It's not so bad, driving. In our world, it's the same as being able to Apparate."

"Takes a lot longer though." He turned his gaze out the window as London came to life.

Hermione fiddled with the radio, stopping at a station that played popular songs. Draco listened, laughing at some lyrics he thought "barmy" and tapping his foot unconsciously to catchy beats. What with the traffic and the Granger's living out in the suburbs, it took more than twenty minutes to reach the shopping district.

It was crowded when they got there and Draco couldn't help huffing in impatience as they searched for a parking spot. Finally spotting one at an inconvenient distance, they headed towards the large building. Families and shoppers went in and out glass double doors that Draco held open for Hermione before following her inside.

"It's so packed," Draco remarked, blinking rapidly, "and bright."

She laughed softly. "This is one of the big chains in the U.K.," she explained as they crossed the shop. "It's a popular clothing store, but a bit pricy for my taste."

"With outfits like that, it's no wonder," Draco remarked when they passed a statue dressed in an expensive tux and accompanied by another in an elegant, but nonetheless fancy dress. "Muggles actually buy these things?"

She cast him a funny look. "Of course, for parties and special occasions and the like."

They exited the shop and entered the main walkway with shops and boutiques lined up on either side. They stepped inside a crafty looking store with lots of plant-like decorations and light-bulbs hanging outside.

Draco gawked at the mini Christmas trees that were adorned with various blinking lights and other muggle contraptions he found fascinating, if a little annoying. He followed Hermione to an aisle with colored balls wrapped in boxes and mini snow angels and gold stars…

"What should we put on top of the tree?" Hermione asked after they had chosen the other decorations.

Draco shrugged. All of this was new to him. At home, they never really decorated the tree. His father simply flicked his wand and the tree was cast in a golden hue, with spotlights of red and bright green. He created an illusion of falling snow and it capped the tree gracefully in soft, magical snowflakes that hardened off the branches like frosty decorations.

"We had a gold star last year," she explained, "Maybe we should go for an angel this time?" She looked to him and he nodded.

"Variety is good." They spent the next fifteen minutes perusing all the angelic statues before selecting one that was completely white with an angel that had a serene expression and tumbling white hair with a flowing gown that lightly sparkled.

Draco picked up the bag after she paid and they entered the outside bustle again.

"Ooh! Let's go there!" Hermione suddenly cried and tugged him to a clothing store. An all male clothing store, by the looks of it.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked, holding up a green tee with some sort of circular symbol on it.

Draco eyed the t-shirt apprehensively. "You can't be serious 'Mione."

"You'll need normal clothes if you're going to spend time with me outside."

"What's wrong with the one's I have?" he cried.

She surveyed him up and down, noting the dark trousers that highlighted the length of his long legs and the grey sweater which brought out the color of his eyes. "Nothing," she honestly replied, "But most muggle boys don't go around wearing _trousers. _I like your sweater, but you definitely need jeans?"

"I need what?"

"_Jeans," _she patiently replied, holding up a dark blue pair. "Try them on, won't you?"  
Draco didn't even want to touch them, much less try them on, but he couldn't deny her plea either. _Oh, love and it's wonderful traps, _he bitterly thought as he took the offensive article and disappeared in the men's room.

Draco stripped and reluctantly tugged on the heavy material. It hung off his slim hips and made his legs look baggy. He curled his finger through the belt loop and sighed. It was all he could do to hold them up.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice echoed from outside.

_Is she really in the men's room? _he thought, before letting her know where he was.

"It doesn't fit, 'Mione," he said and she made an impatient noise.

"Just let me see you!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but let the door swing open. He stood sullenly as she raked her eyes over him, a smile tuggin her lips before she burst out laughing.

"Oh Merlin!" she breathed, "It's hanging off like rags, Draco! You're so thin!"

He scowled. "I like lean, thanks," he bit out before slamming the door shut.

He was just about to pull on his own trousers, when something flew over the door.

"Try these!"

He grumbled, but knowing better than to argue with his equally stubborn girlfriend, Draco fumbled once more with the muggle clothes. The pair of black jeans fit him snugly this time and he hesitantly pulled on a white t-shirt with some sort of intricate green print.

When he stepped out this time, he saw her chocolate eyes widen as they roamed over him.

"Well?" he prodded, when she continued to stare.

"You look..."

"Horrendous?"

"No! You look great," she weakly finished, blushing when one blonde eyebrow rose in question.

"It's just different seeing you in something so casual," she babbled, "But you don't look half bad. What do you think?"

Draco shrugged. "I'll wear them if it pleases you, but I won't be caught dead in them at Hogwarts."

She smiled. "Then wait, I have more."

And before Draco could sputter in outrage, she pushed him inside with a whole handful.

* * *

"Satisfied?" Draco asked when they exited the store with bags full of clothes.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes, thanks for putting up with it."

"I wouldn't mind if it were just one or two clothes, but you had to buy the whole store."

"Well, you looked good in all of them-I couldn't help it," and she blushed so prettily that Draco didn't have the heart to tease.

"You owe me," he said, hoisting the heavy bags over one shoulder.

"Then I'll treat you," she said as the food court came into view. "What do you want to have?"

Draco surveyed the stalls suspiciously, not sure what was edible or not, before spotting one treat that no one in the universe could do without.

"Ice cream."

She smiled. _Draco and his sweet tooth._

"What?"

But Hermione shook her head. "Come on-"

They bought a cone each and found an empty table where they deposited the heavy shopping and collapsed in the chairs. Draco licked his chocolate cone like a kid while Hermione took a bite from her strawberry helping.

They chatted between bites, about homework and presents and the holiday. Draco asked when she was leaving to the Weasleys.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't think I'll take their offer-"

"It's not an offer Draco. They invited you-"

"Only because you're with me."

"What's wrong with that? They don't know you like I do. Give them time. Let them get familiar with you-_the real you. _I'm sure you'll get along fine."

"You sound so confident-"

"I am!" She held his hand in hers and gave it a hard squeeze. "I know they'll like you because _I _like you, don't I? We hated each other before, but now look at us. Who's to say they can't change if I have?"

Draco still wasn't convinced, but he didn't want to argue. He accepted her comfort with a small smile and they finished their ice cream. Picking up the bags, they left the mall.

"We should head down to the pet shop now," Hermione remarked as they waited to cross the street. "We'll head straight home after, ok?"

Draco nodded, gripping the bags tighter. A cold wind whipped around them, sending shivers up his spine. They walked towards the car and Hermione popped the trunk open. She dumped her half inside and Draco made to do the same when the ground suddenly reeled.

He dropped the bags, leaning sideways into Hermione who grabbed him with startled hands.

"Draco?" she cried, scared.

He held the car for support and sank to his knees, panting. His eyes rolled shut as he tried to block the dizziness.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Hermione whimpered, her arm uselessly chaffing his back. He had broken into a sweat. She brushed back his bangs, feeling his forehead, coaxing him to speak to her.

Draco just shook his head and tucked his reeling head between his knees. He didn't know how long they sat there. Hermione, seeing as he wasn't going to to respond, kept muttering reassurances to him that he caught in and out as his mind swam under the dizzy spell.

Finally, after what was probably minutes but felt like hours, Draco slowly opened his eyes and stared at the still road between his feet. He looked up and met Hermione's worried eyes.

"I'm fine," he whispered, brushing her cold cheek which seemed white with fear. "Just dizzy…"

She helped him to his feet and then pulled him close, burying her face in his chest, clutching his sweater tightly. Draco wrapped his arms about her and let her warmth seep into him. He dipped his face in her hair, calming at the smell of her flowery shampoo and the feel of her soft, bushy strands.

"I'm sorry-" he whispered, but she pressed her hand over his lips and looked at him with startlingly stern eyes.

"No," she firmly replied and moved her hand, gliding it through the hair that curled about his neck. "It's as much your fault as it's mine, Draco. I don't want you to _ever _apologize to me about any of this, ok?"

He nodded and she gave him a weak smile. Reaching down she snaked their fingers together.

"Good. Now, what do say we go grab Clyde's food?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_"When we seek to discover the best in other, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves."_

_~ William Arthur Ward (American scholar)_

* * *

The next few days went by smoothly for Draco. He found he could easily slip into the Granger's routine. It was, if nothing else, quite uncomplicated.

They all had breakfast at seven in the morning on weekdays. Hermione and her mother did the serving and the cooking while Mr. Granger read tidbits of interesting news from the muggle newspaper they got daily.

Draco absorbed the information quietly, sitting across from the man, and listened to the family discussing the piece, feeling that even when they argued there was a sense of loving peace. Hermione's parents, he noted, were intellectuals.

Reading aloud from the newspaper had been a family ritual since Hermione was two. They talked about their plans and their day over tea and coffee. Then the table was cleared and Hermione cleaned up the kitchen while her parents rushed to work.

Sometimes, her mother came home for lunch, but more often than not, Draco spent the rest of the day in Hermione's company. After their mall adventure, she took him to the park, to the more famous land sites of London (the Eye, the Bridge, the museum, etc;), to the local outdoor pool, to the public library, and today-well, today they were still debating.

Draco assumed he had learned more about the muggles in his short stay with Hermione than in the four years he might have, had he bothered to take Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. Sometimes, he wished he had just so things wouldn't surprise him so much.

"I know!" Hermione suddenly cried as she returned from the kitchen with two glasses of cold orange juice. "Let's go to the theater!"

She explained what it was before Draco could question and smiled when she saw his interest pique.

"It's just like a bigger tele, isn't it?" he remarked, nodding his head to silent black box.

In the weeks he had stayed over, Draco had somewhat become accustomed to the muggle appliances. He was still startled and at times fascinated by them, but the surprise was slowly wearing off. He even knew how to work the microwave and the radio now.

"Yes, something like it. What do you say?"

"Sounds entertaining, but what will we watch?"

She opened the day's paper and spread it across their laps as they sat side by side in the loveseat. She read out the titles and the summaries, then went on to explain what movies were in detail when he asked.

Hermione's father had a habit of watching the news in the evenings and the family sometimes sat together for late night game shows, but her parents weren't fans of the movie industry. They devoured novels and listened to the radio for hours, but they couldn't fathom movies.

Hermione on the other, loved the past time. She had a whole glass cabinet full of them in her room. He let her choose, seeing as he had absolutely no idea, and they settled for an action-packed, comedy. Hermione absolutely hated the romantics, but she liked fantasy and action.

"What about horror?" Draco asked, pointing to a grotesque poster.

She wrinkled her nose comically. "It's alright if it makes sense. But really, horror movies are just exaggerated versions of the sci-fi. I'd much rather watch the world end."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her offhand comment, but then he remembered this was Hermione Granger, the girl who had helped defeat the most evil dark wizard of their time. He supposed she had the right to mock death if she chose.

"Well then, action it is."

* * *

The theater was just to the right of the big mall they had visited days ago, but thankfully, it wasn't as crowded. Hermione bought their tickets and he followed her up a flight of moving staircases, which he liked very much, and into a dimly lit room with rows upon rows of high-backed velvet chairs.

They chose a spot almost to the back and dead in the center. Draco sank into his seat, tapping his foot nervously when more people entered the theater.

"Relax," Hermione said, laying a hand on his thigh. "The movie will start soon."

"It's cold," he murmured.

"They really didn't have to turn the A.C. on," she frowned before raising the arm between them and sliding half over in his chair.

Draco welcomed her cuddle and sighed when her slight, warm frame melted his shivers.

"This has to be illegal," he whispered into her hair. "A Malfoy and a Granger-it's like Shakespeare over again."

She laughed at his muggle allusion. "Then I'd better be a Montague. I like Mercutio's character."

He smiled. "A quicksilver tongue. He never thinks before he acts. I'd appoint Weasle his character if he had any brains."

He felt Hermione stiffen and suddenly cursed his thoughtlessness.

"He's not that bad, you know-" she began, but he cut her off, holding her close as he spoke,

"I know and I'm sorry. I won't tease him."

She nodded, but remained silent. Draco supposed her thoughts had drifted to their unresolved tension again. Really, why did Weasley have to make things so difficult?

"You know, I'm thinking I'll come to the Weasleys," he said, hoping to distract her and it worked.

She whipped around, wide-eyed. "Really?"

He nodded. "Maybe…it's time I made up for my father-and my-conduct."

A genuine smile crossed her lips. They turned to the huge screen when the lights gave out and the movie began, but they couldn't help glancing at each other when each thought the other wasn't aware.

* * *

Draco woke up the next morning feeling stiffer than ever. His muscles had never felt so sore and he slowly stretched and winced. It was going to be a painful day. He was slower than usual getting downstairs and the Grangers all wondered what held him when he finally slid into his seat, trying to hold his composure.

"I was writing a letter," he lied and left it at that, although he saw Hermione's eyes narrow when their eyes met. Of course she suspected otherwise.

Draco hardly touched his breakfast and opted for a mug of coffee over his morning tea. Her parents thought nothing of it, but Hermione cast him a worried glare. He brushed her off as her father began reading the newspaper aloud and tried to concentrate on his deep voice, feeling his own trapped beneath the pain.

Once the dishes had been cleared and her parents ushered safely out the house, she rounded on him, demanding to know what was wrong.

He shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I'm feeling as I usually do just…more in pain, I suppose."

Her gaze softened and she lightly touched his arm. "Did you have any pain potions?"

He nodded. "They're not enough, but I've been told not to take more. It's alright really," he added, seeing her worry increase. "I can deal. I'll probably just sleep or something if it gets worse and you don't even have to stay with me-"

But she held up her hand, sharply cutting him off. "I'm not leaving you alone for even a second, Draco, and don't try to get rid of me just so you can suffer alone."

He sighed defeated and slumped into his seat. "Well I'm useless like this. I don't even think I can handle the car-I might throw up."

"We don't have to go anywhere. We can spend the day inside-it'll be a good rest." She turned on the tv as she spoke and asked if he wanted to watch a movie. Draco nodded, not particularly caring what they did as long as he didn't have to move much.

She ran upstairs and returned with a selection of movies, carrying Clyde in one arm. The kitten jumped onto the sofa, brushing his claws against the cushion as Hermione laid the movies on the coffee table.

They chose one and she turned it on. When she sat down on the other side of the sofa, Draco stretched out, head in her lap and smiled up at her. Amused, she ran her fingers through his hair and told him to sleep if he must. Draco consented without a word.

Within minutes, he was again fast asleep. Hermione lost herself in the movie, still petting Draco's hair absently from time to time. He didn't stir. They lost track of time and when the movie finally finished, it was past lunch. Hermione's stomach grumbled, but she was loathed to wake Draco.

She was wondering what she could summon from the kitchen when the key turned in the lock and her mother came in to find the unexpected scene.

"Hey, mum," she smiled, a little embarrassed and nudged Draco. He mumbled something in coherent and turned on his side so that his face was buried against her stomach.

Mrs. Granger smiled, as unusual as it was, and saying she'll be in the kitchen, left a bit hastily. Hermione groaned and shook Draco hard. He came around a bit disoriented.

"Where's the fire?" he murmured as she made him sit up. He tried to brush the sleep from his eyes as she jumped off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Mum!" she cried, "It's not-we weren't-I mean, he was just sleeping!"

Her mother raised an eyebrow but pressed her lips together. Hermione squirmed under her gaze. She knew that as much as her parents loved her, there were still limits.

"He was really tired and we were watching a movie when he just fell asleep," she hurriedly explained.

But before her mother could answer, Draco came at the door, looking thoroughly disheveled and still barely awake.

"Hermione?" and when he realized who was with her, he had the decency to blush before stuttering a hello.

Mrs. Granger couldn't help but laugh softly and she shoed both the kids away. "Go sleep upstairs, dear," she told Draco, "I don't know what you two were doing all last night, but both of you could use a long nap."

Baffled, Draco let a thoroughly humiliated Hermione drag him up the stairs, gripping his wrist hard enough to make him wince.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she flopped on the bed, scowling.

She squirmed. "She thinks-she thought we were-"

"What?"

"She thinks we were doing stuff!"

He gave her a strange look as he sidled next to her. "Stuff?"

"Oh…you know…stuff," she lamely explained, unable to hide the blush that blossomed over her cheeks.

Draco laughed inwardly at her discomfort. "What kind of stuff?"

She shot him a pointed glare and turned away with a huff when he smirked. Coyly, he put her arms about her and pulled her close. "We can do stuff," he whispered in her ear as he bent down to attack her neck.

Hermione shivered when his warm breath caressed her cheek. His lips trailed kisses and she tilted her head to grant him better access. He had never held her so-it felt intimate. She laced her arm about his neck and let her fingers toy with his soft hair. He didn't seem to notice. Eyes closed, he was intent on ravishing her like a vampire.

When his hands around her waist tightened, she squirmed. "Draco…stop," she murmured breathlessly.

He looked up and smirked, his cheeks as rosy as hers. "What?" he innocently asked, "Isn't this what you want?"

With a frown Hermione pushed him away. "I'm going to help mum with dinner," she announced before stalking out the door, her cheeks still a furious pink.

Smiling to himself, Draco fell back on her bed and sighed. He missed her already.

* * *

Draco didn't eat much at dinner. He pushed the food around his plate, taking a small bite now and then, and taking extra long to finish the said bite. The pain in his limbs was back with a vengeance and his back hurt from sitting straight for so long. He simply wanted to pass out in fitful sleep.

The Grangers made small talk, which passed over Draco's head, and then they retired to the living room to decorate the tree. Draco tried to keep smiling as he helped, but it was hard. By the time the angel had been safely deposited atop, he could barely stand.

Excusing himself, he disappeared to the loo, sliding to the floor with his pounding head in his hands. Merlin, he hurt! With shaking hands, he fished out a small vial from his pant pocket and downed the purple contents, grimacing at the bitter sweetness. Before leaving, Professor Snape had been kind enough to make stronger pain potions for him, without the knowledge of Madam Pomfrey of course. Draco suspected it was Dumbledore's doing. After all, he knew the potions master didn't favor him anymore, even if Draco had been surprisingly talented at potions.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes as the pain finally ebbed to a dull throb. Using the wall to support himself, he stood shakily, gathering his bearings before exiting out the door.

* * *

The trip to the Weasley's came sooner than Draco would have liked.

"It'll be fine," Hermione said for the tenth time as she held out her hand. Draco nodded and gave her a small smile as he took it. No sooner did flesh meet flesh than the unpleasant jerk of apparition sent them hurling through space.

They stood in front of the dilapidated little house, Draco clinging a little unsteadily to Hermione's sleeve.

"Are you alright?" she asked as the wooden door swung open and figures immerged down the stairs.

"I'll be fine," he breathed, letting go of her arm as Mrs. Weasley and a pink-haired woman came to greet them.

"Hermione, Draco" Mrs. Weasley smiled, embracing Hermione before giving Draco's arm a pat. He accepted her affection with an uneasy smile of his own, his eyes elsewhere occupied. He swore he knew the woman who watched the display with a sly smile.

"Draco," she said, extending her slim hand which he took reluctantly. "Tonks. I don't think we've ever been introduced as cousins before."

"No…you're from my mother's side?" he asked, wondering how such a thin woman had an iron grip.

"That's right. I married your old professor Lupin."

"I'm not a professor anymore and certainly not old," Remus Lupin said as he joined them, his arm looping around Tonks' waist in a half embrace.

"Professor!" Hermione smiled and they exchanged greetings. Draco followed them up a set of rickety stairs and into the house. He imagined the house would collapse if it weren't for the magic holding it up.

It was cozy enough inside that they shed their coats. The house was bright, warm, and welcoming, adjectives Draco certainly wouldn't have used for the Manor. The Weasleys and Potter all lined up to greet Hermione, with the exception of Ron. Draco imagined he was still sulking somewhere and wished he could give him a good kick when he saw Hermione's eyes darting about the room, searching for him in vain.

Hermione, Ginny, Tonks, and a few of the female Weasleys Draco had never seen ventured into the kitchen while the men retreated to the living room. After a moment's hesitation, Draco followed Potter's disappearing back.

He sat in a chair as he watched the Weasleys interact loudly with each other. The twins were sharing their latest tricks, Mr. Weasley and Lupin were talking in animated voices about some Ministry regulation or the other, and Potter and Weasley were playing chess. Draco studied the board and was impressed when Ron Weasley, in a clean move, swiped the white bishop off the board, checkmating Potter with his knight.

"How many losses has this been?" Potter cried as they ordered the pieces to line up again.

"Give up, mate, you'll never beat me," Weasley grinned.

It was as they were getting ready for another match that Potter's green eyes met his. Draco quickly looked away, feeling increasingly awkward when Potter continued to stare.

"Malfoy, do you want a game?" he asked.

"What?" Draco started, too surprised that Potter had even spoken to him.

"A game," Harry emphasized, ignoring Ron's scowl. "Do you want to play?"

Draco seemed to interpret Ron's obvious dislike and shook his head. "I'm fine watching." It was just as well, he could feel the beginnings of a headache.

Ron and Harry went back to their game, and Draco sank into the shadows, quite content to observe.

* * *

"So how is it?" Ginny asked that night as the girls got ready for bed. Hermione and Ginny were sharing her room as usual. Harry and Draco had crashed in Ron's.

"How's what?" Hermione asked as she brushed her unruly hair.

"Being with Malfoy," Ginny pressed. "You said he's different."

Hermione shrugged. "He's changed, yes, but I wonder if he wasn't always so? Maybe we just never took the time to know him."

Ginny snorted. "As if he would let us…"

They talked about other things and then, after they turned out the lights, Ginny asked, "Have you done it then?"

"What?" Hermione gasped, shooting up in bed to stare at her in disbelief.

Ginny flashed her teeth in the dark at her expected reaction. "I asked, have you two done it?"

"No!" she vehemently and Ginny laughed.

"Relax, 'Mione! I was only teasing."

"Well have _you _done it?" she retorted, wishing she hadn't the next second. She _did not _want to think what her two close friends were doing together!

Ginny giggled again. "No-not all the way, but Harry and I have our moments, when the whole family's not watching that is!"

They lay down again, each lost in their own pleasant thoughts. Hermione's were naturally full of Draco. She wondered…what was he like in bed? Her cheeks burned as she pictured him without a shirt. She remembered how creamy and smooth his pale skin looked in the muggle T-shirt. Her heart hammered at the thought of running her fingers over his sinewy arms. She could clearly trace the blue veins as they wound up the taunt, lean muscles in her mind's eye.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, reveling, despite herself, in dreams of her grey-eyed boy.


	22. Chapter 22

_I'm in an awesome mood today-aced my linear II midterm! yeah! so to celebrate...^_^_**  
**

**Chapter 22**

_"A certain recluse, I know not who, once said that no bonds attached him to this life, and the only thing he would regret leaving was the sky."_

_~Kenko Yoshida (1283-1350)_

_Japanese author and monk_

* * *

The next morning, Hermione and Ginny tramped to the kitchen to find the boys had beaten them to breakfast. Draco gave her a smile as she slid into the seat next to him while Ginny shared a chaste kiss with Harry, to her brother's utter displeasure. Harry and Ron were still in their pajamas, having just awoken, but Draco was dressed, hair combed.

"Did you shower already?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

She saw Ron roll his eyes, but before she could shoot him a look, Harry caught her eyes from across the table, shaking his head slightly. She kept silent if only to appease him. When Mrs. Weasley dished out her scrambled eggs and toast, they ate their breakfast in silence.

Draco, she noted, hardly ate anything, downing his juice instead and shuffling the food around his plate as discreetly as possible. She saw Harry shooting him looks from time to time and, unless her eyes deceived her, he seemed concerned.

After breakfast, Hermione and Ginny helped clean up the table while the rest discussed plans for the day. Mr. Weasley hurried off to work and the twins, who had come for the holidays, proposed a Quidditch match. Of course the boys jumped on the idea, even Ginny. Hermione, who wasn't much of a flyer, wondered where Draco was while everyone scrambled outside to the shed for the brooms.

"He's probably in the bathroom," Harry, who had lingered behind, said.

"The bathroom?" Hermione asked, prodding him on.

Harry checked to make sure everyone was out of earshot before replying, "He's been throwing up since dinner last night-woke us at least three times with the noise."

Hermione tried to mask her fear as she said, "He…probably had a reaction or something." She could feel Harry's eyes on her, studying her in his infuriating way.

At length, he asked what Hermione feared, "He's still sick, isn't he?"

"Sort of," she shrugged. "He's….not the same as he was before."

Harry bought her lame explanation, forgoing the matter for the sake of her discomfort. Just as they reached the shed, he said, "Hermione, just so you know, I don't have anything against Draco or you. You both don't have to hide from me."

Touched, she gave him a warm smile and a soft thank-you.

* * *

She knew they wouldn't miss her as long the brooms were in the air, so Hermione went back to the house, checking the downstairs bathroom before going up the stairs to Ron's. The door was closed, but when she turned the knob, it gave way. She could hear him retching and saw him leaning over the sink, hands braced on the counter, upchucking pitifully. He didn't notice her till she lightly touched his back.

"'Mione?" he hoarsely whispered, washing his mouth before turning around. She wordlessly handed him a hand towel, her hand still on his back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his lips red from the all the washing.

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted. "Harry told me you've been sick since last night. Couldn't think to confide in me, could you?"

He sighed and walked out of the bathroom without a reply. Unperturbed, Hermione followed.

"What's bothering you?" she softly asked when he lay down on the bed, shielding his eyes from the light filtering through the window.

"Nothing," he replied as she sat down beside him. He didn't want to tell her how horrible he felt. He hated it and he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Well, it can't be nothing if you're ill, Draco," she retorted, but he offered nothing more and she gave up.

"Are you going to play Quidditch?" she asked after a time.

He huffed, "Do you really think I can?"

Hermione ignored the sarcasm, knowing it was probably due to his discomfort. "We can go watch if you like…or we can just lie here together."

He looked at her, but his lips thinned. "You don't have to stay here with me. I don't care if you go."

Hermione frowned, hurt. "What's with you? Don't you want me to stay?"

"It's not that," he shrugged, looking away, "They're your friends. There's no reason why you should stay cooped up in here-you're not obligated to me."

"Of course not!" she cried, "I'm only your _girlfriend _Draco! Why in the world would I be worried about you-"

"Then don't be!" he shouted back, sitting up and pinning her with his cloudy eyes. "I don't need a _babysitter _Hermione! If you care about me, then learn to leave me alone!"

She froze as though he had slapped her. This was the first time she had ever seen Draco in a rage. His face was flushed, eyes an angry grey, and his sharp features which she'd thought made him look vulnerable, were anything but.

"Please," he whispered, "Leave me alone…" With that he flopped onto his back and turned away, curling into himself, away from her.

Hermione stared at his back, wanting to reach out and pull him in her arms, to ask what was wrong, but she clenched her fists, stood, and walked out without another word.

* * *

Harry and the Weasleys had struck up a great game of Quidditch, unaware of the storm clouding inside. When Hermione stalked out, it was Ginny who first noticed something amiss.

"Be right back!" she told the boys who hardly missed her as she descended down and made towards her friend.

"Hey," she said as she sat down beside Hermione.

"Hey," Hermione replied, with a fake smile that she knew Ginny saw through.

Over the years, the two girls had come to see other as sisters. Hermione, who never had any close siblings, found some comfort in her while Ginny, who was surrounded by her clueless brothers, held fast to her female companionship.

"Is everything alright?" Ginny prodded and Hermione sighed.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, before she spoke, "I just…had a row with Draco. It's no big deal really, but it seems so pointless now."

"What about?" Ginny asked, having had plenty of rows with Harry.

Hermione shrugged. "He's been feeling a bit off lately and snapped. I was sort of shocked, because it's really the first time he's been angry in months and…well, it just went downhill from there."

"What's he doing now?"

"Sleeping I guess."

"Good. He's probably tired or something. Harry gets snappy sometimes if he hasn't had enough sleep. He'll come around 'Mione. If the way I've seen him look at you is any indication, I don't think he wants to part from you just yet."

That wrung a smile from Hermione.

* * *

They turned in a good three hours later.

"I'm hungry," Ron announced calling for his mum.

"She's gone to Diagon Alley," Ginny said, holding a note.

"Which reminds us-Geroge," Fred said, turning to his twin.

"About the papers, Fred. Let's go-" and before anyone could get a word in, the two Apparated with a pop.

"Well, go take a shower. Hermione and I'll make sandwiches," Ginny finished and the two remaining boys trudged up the stairs, eager to comply with the promise of food.

* * *

"What's at Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, wondering about the twins as they entered the kitchen.

Ginny made to reply, but no sooner had her lips parted then they heard the boys' frantic shouts, calling for them. The girls exchanged a feared look, before scrambling up the stairs.

Hermione followed Ginny to the boys' room, her heart hammering.

"What's going on?" Ginny cried as they burst in.

"We found him like that! I swear Harry and I didn't do a thing!" Ron, who was standing inside the doorway, babbled.

"Found wha-?" Ginny made to ask, but stifled a gasp when her brother moved aside.

Draco lay on his stomach in a pool of blood. Harry was leaning over him, trying and failing to enervate him. His wand hand shook as he tapped the blonde's shoulder, calling his name but getting no response.

Trembling, Hermione knelt by Harry's side.

"I don't think we should move him," she whispered, blinking back tears.

"He needs help-We found him like this, but it looks like he's vomited blood."

Hermione tentatively brushed the blonde strands that hid Draco's face, unable to hold back a sob when she saw all the gore. "He's sick, Harry," she cried. "He's been sick and –god! I fought with him! I should've known-I should've stayed-"

"Hermione," Harry tried to break in, but she couldn't hear him. Exasperated, he looked to his friends. They couldn't deal with her panic right now. Ginny, as though reading his mind, took Hermione in her embrace and tried to comfort her.

"Ron," Harry turned to the tall boy, "I think we should call Mungo's."

"Right-" he nodded and left the room without delay.

Harry turned back to the blonde, feeling increasingly scared when the boy showed no sign of coming around. He picked up his limp wrist and felt for his pulse, feeling a little relieved when his weak flutter reverberated through him.

He heard commotion downstairs…people. He wondered if the Healers had already come when Ron appeared with Remus and Tonks.

The adults knelt by Draco, sparing Harry only a glance as they checked him over with their wands. Tonks, an Auror, and Remus, an ex-Defense professor, had had their share of medical training.

"Ron is there a Pepper-Up potion in Molly's stock?" Remus asked.

"In the cupboard-" Ron replied, hurrying out again.

"He's lost too much blood," Tonks murmured.

"Harry, help me-"

Harry immediately helped the man turn Draco onto his back. They were careful not to jostle him. Remus laid him down, keeping his hand beneath his head as though to cushion it. Draco's face was a sight to see. Blood was plastered to the side of his face and hair, dripping onto his forehead.

"He'll be fine, won't he?" Harry asked, licking his lips.

"He's bleeding internally. We'll have to take him to Mungo's, but we can't move him just yet."

Ron stumbled in with the potion and handed it to Tonks who uncorked it. She tipped the red liquid to Draco's lips while Remus held him up. The potion went down easily and the next second, Draco choked, sputtering blood.

Ginny, who was still holding Hermione, tightened her embrace when she felt her trembling.

"Right-Tonks, floo to Mungo's and tell them to expect us," Remus said as he scooped Draco into his arms. He was a handful, but with Harry's help, they brought him down the stairs and to the hearth which blazed as Tonks went through.

"Ron, tell your parents and stay with the girls-"

"I'm coming!" Hermione cried.

"It's best if you stay here-"

"No! I have to come! They won't know what's wrong with him-please! There's no time to explain!"

Remus stared hard at her a moment, before nodding. He stepped into the hearth, cradling Draco now limp in his arms, and the flame burst green. A moment later, Harry and Hermione followed.

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember being this scared since Voldemort's rising. She followed Harry nervously towards the room the Healers had taken Draco to. They found Remus and Tonks waiting outside. Remus' robes had crimson stains on them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Remus glanced at them both before piercing Hermione with his eyes. "Hermione, they don't know what's wrong."

He spoke calmly, but she sensed his concern and fear. Her own heart was ready to burst and she felt the tears threaten to overflow again.

"let-let me talk to them," she said, her voice wavering, just as a Healer came from the room, looking thoroughly exasperated.

"He's not responding well," he said, pushing up his glasses. "We've put him on blood replenishing potions, but he's still losing blood fast."

"He's bleeding internally," Remus said.

"Yes, but we can't stop the flow-his magical core has gone haywire. We've called in a specialist, but we need his guardian to sign the forms."

Hermione bit her lip. They couldn't tell Narcissa-the woman had no idea.

"Please, I know what's wrong," she said before the Healer could walk away. She was aware of all the eyes on her, as she spoke, "He has-he has Sinberger's Syndrome. He was diagnosed two months before Christmas."

The Healer looked tense. "Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.

"And has he been on any medication?"

"Pain potions, Dreamless Sleep, fever reducers…I don't know anything else."

"What about any outside therapy?"

She shook her head. "He was at school the whole time."

"Very well, this certainly narrows it down, though it's by no means easier. Please, make yourself comfortable in the waiting room."

With that he turned back into the room, his white robes billowing behind him in a perfect imitation of Professor Snape.

* * *

Hermione sat wringing her hands beside Remus who was filling in the medical form as accurately as possible. He knew something of his student's history, but when he reached the list of possible medications, symptoms, and whatnot, he slid the parchment toward his disconsolate charge.

Picking up the quill with trembling hands, Hermione wrote all that Draco had told her and she had read. Remus' eyes widened in shock as he read what she wrote.

"Hermione, this is very serious," he softly said and she could only nod as she swallowed her distress. "Who else knows?"  
"Professor Snape and the Headmaster and…Madam Pompfrey."

"His mother?"

"He doesn't want to tell her yet."

Harry, who was sitting across from them, heard every word and could only sit speechless as Hermione finished the form. Remus rose to take it to the Healer and Harry took his place, wrapping a comforting arm around his friend who was all too glad to lean into his embrace.

"You've known all along?" he asked.

"It's how we became close."

They sat in silence, Harry worried about Hermione just as much as she was worried about Draco. Remus joined them a little later, looking very pensive.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

Remus glanced at Hermione before answering, "He needs blood, but they're having a hard time finding a match."

When Harry looked puzzled, he explained, "He's a pureblood, Harry. There are very few of them left and those that are have intermingled magic through so much interbreeding. He has a rare blood type thanks to that."

"Should we call someone?"

"I've contacted Severus to see if he might know anything."

They fell silent again. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Draco came too an hour later, feeling as though he had been petrified and crucioed. His muscles spasmed at the tiniest movement and his chest hurt. A nurse who was fiddling with some vials saw that he was up and smiled at him.

"Are you in pain dear?"  
Draco managed a nod. She wordlessly raised his bed so that he was half sitting and tipped a vial to his lips. He gulped the bitter potion down, trying not to gag.

"I'll just get the Healer," she said before bustling out. When she returned, it was with a spectacled man in white robes and another familiar face Draco's muddled mind couldn't place.

"Dr. Heinshaw tells me you've met," the Healer smiled.

"Ah…" recognition dawned Draco's features. "yes…" But he couldn't offer much more. The pain potion was slowly ebbing away the worst of the nagging pain, bringing on sleep.

The men must have seen how tired he was, for they wasted no time beating around the bush. The Healer let the man examine him, waving his wand and asking questions which were met with tired answers. They didn't press him when Draco became too tired to talk, but let him sleep.

When the men walked out, they met a stoic looking man and Remus who stood beside a tall, thin girl with flowing blonde hair.

"A blood donor," the greasy-haired man shortly explained. "However, she refuses to sign the forms."

"But you're still willing to donate?" the Healer asked.

The girl raised her chin haughtily and nodded. "I just don't want my name associated with him," she replied in a thick French accent.

"Very well," the Healer sighed, "Come this way-"

"Such prejudice!"Snape spat once they were safely out of earshot. "You would think Weasley might have curbed his wife-"

"Now, now Severus, she has agreed to help Draco-" Remus began.

"But at what expense? She will donate but once." He made to leave, but Remus' voice arrested him,

"Where are you going?"

"To find more _willing _donors," came the even reply.

And Remus let him go with a bemused smile, happy to know that Severus Snape _cared._


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_"He who gives what he would as readily throw away, gives without generosity; for the essence of generosity is in self sacrifice."_

_~Henry Taylor_

* * *

"We'll have to monitor him for a couple days. He's weak, but the bleeding has stopped and his vitals look normal. There's a specialist who I'd like his guardian to talk to."

Severus nodded to the Healer. "I'm his unofficial guardian for now."

The Healer regarded him for a moment. "Very well, this way."

Severus glanced at the small crowd gathered in the waiting room before following the Healer down the hallway.

"Well, it looks like Severus will sort everything out," Remus smiled, turning to the kids whose faces all seemed glum. He exchanged a desperate glance with Arthur who, understanding perfectly, went about trying to lighten the mood.

"Why don't you kids go back home? We'll call when he comes around."

"I'm not leaving," Hermione quietly but firmly replied.

"Hermione, you need to eat something and rest," Tonks coaxed, "We've been here for twelve hours."

But she shook her head. "I have to know he's alright. I-It's my fault he's in there. If I'd only stayed with him-"

"It would have happened anyways," Harry cut in.

She threw him a woeful look, but he was already pulling her to her feet. Without another word, she let him lead her towards the floo. She was tired and confused and worried and afraid-and all these emotions were playing havoc on her nerves. Her last thought before she hit the sack, was of Draco.

* * *

The adults lingered around as promised. Molly took Fleur home after she came back from donating blood and, although she wasn't very happy, she couldn't bring herself to hate the boy. He had looked so pathetic lying there, seeming whiter than the sheets,that she couldn't bear to hold her grudge.

"What did the Healer say?" Remus asked as the men sipped their fifth cup of coffee.

"He introduced me to the specialist who paid Draco a visit at Hogwarts," Severus replied, "He's getting worse."

Arthur frowned. "What did he say to do?"

"Put him in therapy. He wants to try and slow the symptoms down. Apparently they're progressing too rapidly."

"But he's still in school!"

"At this rate, it won't matter much. I'll doubt he'll learn anything."

"What do you mean?" Remus pressed.

Severus sighed. "He's taking stronger pain potions. I know he has recurring headaches and he tires easily. If he keeps this up, he'll wear himself out-trying to act normal. Draco needs to forgo his old life-his old self. He won't be able to deal at Hogwarts with the way he is now."

"Then you think he should be stuck here in the hospital?"

When Severus said nothing, Remus continued, "I've read what Hermione wrote, Sev. It's not that simple. I don't think any amount of therapy can cure him-"

"No, it can't. Draco has less than ten years, but he needs to go if he wants to last that long."

Remus pursed his lips, but said nothing. Arthur closed his eyes, feeling dreadful for the boy. He was so young…

"Does he know?" he asked after a time and when Severus nodded, Arthur couldn't help cursing the fates.

"What about his mother?" Remus asked.

"What about her?"

"Shouldn't she know?"

"If Draco thinks so, he'll let her know-and no, Remus, it's not up to us to interfere. That boy has enough on his plate without worrying about his mother's nerves and Narcissa's delicate nerves are best left unaggravated. She's never been the same since Lucious' arrest."

Severus drained his coffee and was debating whether he should go for a refill when Molly bustled around the corner.

"He's awake," she announced.

Severus glanced at the werewolf who sighed in relief while Arthur drained his coffee with a small smile. _He's awake, _Severus thought, _But for how long?_

* * *

Draco was barely lucid when the adults entered his small room. They had let him have his own, seeing as he was a special case. He blinked at them slowly and managed to give his Head of House a small smile, but he was too tired to say much.

Severus thought he looked considerably better for someone who had almost died, but then, Draco had never been fragile. He was too stubborn.

"Sorry, for worrying you," he at last spoke, his voice a mere whisper. "I didn't know what was happening till I became sick and fainted."

"No harm done dear, as long as you're alright," Molly smiled in her motherly way.

_But I've ruined their Christmas, _he bitterly thought, wondering what they were doing here with _him _of all people.

"And you are not to blame," Arthur cheerfully added.

"Arthur's right," Severus said, "But if you want to prevent future catastrophes Draco, asking for help when you need it would be a good start."

Draco smiled a little sheepishly before asking, "When can I leave?"

"In a few days, but you won't be going to Hogwarts at the end of break."

Draco's eyes grew wide. "Why not?"

"The Healer believes it's time to start the therapy-"

"But Dr. Heinshaw said it could wait till I graduated!"

"That was before he knew the rapid progression in your case-"

"I won't go!" Draco was almost shouting, his voice raspy.

"You don't have much choice-"

"I don't care! I'm not going! I don't want to-to be stuck in a hospital!" He broke off coughing.

"There-there-" Molly soothed, rubbing his back. He let her comfort him as he fought the tears of desperation that rose against his will.

Molly glared at Severus' tactlessness as she tried to calm Draco. He was still coughing, his breathing harsh.

"Severus, come," Arthur said, beckoning the frustrated man out the door, but as the men made to leave, Draco's voice arrested them.

"Please," he called in barely a whisper, "Let me go to Hogwarts. I want to-to see this year through." He pinned his teary eyes on the professor, whose stoic expression seemed to soften just a little when he saw his anguish.

"Very well," he sighed, "but only if you heed the Healer's instructions. I won't have you cause a scene like this at school."

"Sev-" Remus chided as Draco gave him a small nod, wiping his eyes furiously.

"Thanks, professor," he whispered, sinking into the cushions, looking utterly worn out. He was asleep even before they turned out the door.

* * *

Tonks, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley stayed long after the rest had gone. Draco didn't know why they even bothered, seeing as all he did was sleep most of the time. He was still too tired and they were pumping him with potions to regain his strength. He knew he had lost a lot of blood, and vaguely wondered who had cared enough to give him some. He had tried asking Remus when he was left alone with the werewolf for a time, but the man had slyly tiptoed around his questions. Draco figured whoever the person was, they didn't want to associate with him any longer than they had to. He understood of course, but the thought disturbed him a little, and he was quiet the rest of the evening.

Dinner had just been brought to him and he was pushing the unsavory around the plate, doing an impression of eating which the adults of course saw through, when the door creaked open and in peered bushy head of curls.

"Hermione," Remus greeted and no sooner did Draco look up then he found his hands full of a hysterical Hermione. Remus slipped out with an amused smile as Hermione's shrill voice filled the air.

"Draco! Don't you _dare _do that to me again! God I was so scared! There was so much blood and you-you could've _died! _Merlin! I-"

"Hermione," he whispered sinking into her warmth. "I'm sorry."

"No," and she pulled back enough to stare fiercely into his eyes. "_I'm _sorry. None of this would've happened if I hadn't left you alone-none of it!" The tears trickled down her cheeks as she spoke and Draco felt guilty for being the cause of them.

"It's not your fault," he softly told her, wiping her eyes and pulling her down beside him so that she sat by his hip. "We fought over nothing and I…should have been more honest."

She wiped her eyes, nodding. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, "I didn't know how to. I'm not-I'm not used to asking for help." He looked away as he spoke and stared at his hands.

Hermione pushed the blond bangs off his forehead and forced him to meet her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with telling me if you're feeling awful. Who else will you turn to, Draco? And didn't I promise to help you any way I could? If you won't let me, how can I keep my promise?"

He smiled at her thinly before pulling her closer by the wrist. He buried his face against her neck, inhaling her soothing scent and was so still that Hermione wondered whether he had fallen asleep.

"Draco?" she whispered, running her hand through his soft locks.

"Hm?" His voice reverberated down his spine and through her arms, making her shiver. He looked at her a second before lifting his chin to press his lips against hers. Hermione welcomed him, sighing into the kiss. She eased him onto his back and leaned forward, her hair curtaining them both.

She could feel his fingers pressing into her waist as they deepened the kiss and she let her own fingers toy with his hair. She never could get enough of his soft, blond tresses. So lost they were in each other that they missed the creek of the door and the stifled gasp. It wasn't until Harry spoke that Hermione sprang apart, eliciting a moan from Draco at her sudden loss.

"Are you guys quite done?" Harry smirked, standing with folded arms. Ginny smiled playfully at them while Hermione stuttered a reply, smoothening her clothes in the process.

"Had to ruin the moment as always Potter, didn't you?" Draco said, his lips red and hair disheveled.

"That's what I'm there for, aren't I?" Harry retorted as they both walked in and then said more seriously, "I'm glad you're feeling better, though. They had a hard time finding you a blood a match."

"They won't tell me who it is," Draco replied, hoping Harry would tell him, but he only shrugged and Draco frowned.

"Does it matter?" Hermione put in, reaching a hand out to smooth Draco's hair. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"When can you leave?" Ginny asked, giving Hermione a coy smile that made her blush.

Draco ignored their exchange. "In a few days, but I'm hoping tomorrow. I hate being stuck here."

"Yeah, it's Christmas tomorrow," Harry said.

The door opened again as they spoke and Draco looked up to see Ronald Weasley watching hesitantly.

"You can come in Weasley. The others came uninvited," Draco said to which Harry promptly added,

"Gee, thanks Malfoy."

Ron glanced at Hermione who was watching him with wide eyes that made his heart ache. He didn't want her to fear him or look at him with such _pity. _They were a stranger's eyes. Where had the warmth and laughter gone? he wondered as he walked near the bed, towering above it.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Um…so, are you-are you alright?"

Draco wanted to scoff his poor attempt, but he humored him instead. "I will be."

"Well that's…good." He glanced at Hermione again and saw her watching him with some sort of amusement. She smiled when their eyes met and Ron found himself unable to resist smiling back. He knew then he never could be mad at her-not for long anyways.

"Well I'm glad we've had this touchy reunion," Draco said bringing the attention back to him, "but I think I'd like to sleep now. Shouldn't you be down at dinner?"

"I think Mum's just about done," Ginny said, taking Harry's hand as they stood.

Draco looked at Hermione and she shrugged, not wanting to leave his side. "Go eat something, love," he whispered, "You can come back later."

And as hesitant as she was, she couldn't refuse when he spoke with endearments. Kissing him quickly and blushing furiously, she followed Harry and Ginny out the door. Ron nodded to Draco, but before he could leave, Draco called after him.

"Weasley, can I have a word? Alone?"

He looked at him curiously before shutting the door with a nod. "What is it?"

Draco sat up a little straighter against the pillows. "There's…no straight way to say this but, I know you still love Hermione. I can see it in your eyes."

Ron's jaw tightened. "So?"

Draco didn't reply at once, studying the anger that made Ron's freckles deepen. He sighed finally and looked at his hands. "Look, I love her and you do too. I know that if it hadn't been for me, both of you would be together now. I've come between you-"

"If you're about to apologize, then forget it Malfoy! An apology can't mend what you've broken."

Draco looked up and there was a pained expression in his eyes. "I know," he quietly replied. "And I won't apologize, because I'm not sorry, but…" He closed his eyes briefly before pinning him with determined eyes. "You saw what happened to me. I'm sick and it's only going to get worse. I've been given ten years, but I don't know how much time I've got at this rate."

"What do you mean?" Ron cut in, a tinge of fear in his voice.

"I mean, I'm going to die," Draco coolly replied and watched Ron pale, his fists clenching not with anger but with an emotion he couldn't name. "I've been diagnosed with an incurable disease. What you saw is only the beginning. I know form now it's only going to get worse."

Draco allowed the news to sink in, waiting for the tall boy to say something. Ron at last took a deep breath. "She knows?"

Draco nodded and Ron closed his eyes, cursing inwardly. "I need to ask a favor from you," Draco said when Ron opened his eyes again.

"What?"

"I…need you to be there for her-"Ron looked puzzled, -"when I'm gone-" His eyes grew wide and he shook his head.

"Malfoy, you're not going anywhere. You've still got ten years-they'll find something-you'll see."

Draco smiled weakly at the boy's attempt to comfort him, but he knew his own situation better than anyone. "Maybe," he replied, "But either way, I need you to be there for her when I leave-"

"Leave?"

"I'm going away after graduating from Hogwarts."

"Where-_why?"_

Draco sighed, knowing they had reached the hard part. "When you look at me, you see a Death Eater's son-don't deny it, I know. The rest of the world is the same and I'm not blaming them. I know I've done nothing to deserve their kindness, but that's my problem. I don't want to see Hermione suffer through it as well. She's gone through more than enough and she certainly deserves better than this-" he vaguely gestured at his prone state. "If she stays with me, she won't be happy, but you-you can give her everything I can't-everything she _deserves. _A good name, a good life-a promised life. She'll be happy with you-"

"And are _you _ok with this-with letting her go? I thought you loved her."

Draco smiled sadly and looked away. "Sometimes…the best way to love is to let go. I won't tie her down with my problems. She's only known me for a few months, but you've been through the war with her. I know she'll come around eventually because she's resilient and stubborn, but she won't be able to unless you're there for her." He looked up again as he spoke. "I need to know that you'll do this…will you?"

Ron was speechless. Of all the things they could've talked about, this wasn't what he had expected at all. For Malfoy to give up Hermione…and for such unselfish reasons-it made Ron feel ill, but he read the desperation in those grey eyes and he knew he couldn't refuse them. He had never known Malfoy to be reasonable, but then, he had never really tried to know him at all.

"Fine," he whispered and saw the blonde boy release a long sigh. "But where will you go?"

"To mother's…maybe. I don't want you to tell her about any of this. She can't know-do you promise?"

Ron gave him a level look, before nodding once.

"Good," and Draco sank into the pillows looking utterly worn out. His eyes drooped sleepily and Ron, seeing he was about to drift off, made to quietly take his leave.

Before he walked out the door however, he heard a quiet thank you. Ron looked into those grey eyes again, feeling himself drowning in their depths. He tried to smile-to say _something_-but only managed a small nod before he all but rushed out the door.

* * *

_note: just had a statics midterm today and it's done! put me in a good mood so i posted soon as i could-don't know when the next one will be now, seeing as i haven't any yet. thanks for reading and reviewing!  
_


	24. Chapter 24

_note: here's finally something every Dramione fan longs for...(in the quote) ^_^_**  
**

**Chapter 24**

_"Sex is emotion in motion."_

~ Mae West

* * *

Harry and Remus brought Draco to the Burrow on the third day. He was still more tired than usual, but the pain had become manageable again and the rest, Draco reasoned, he could handle. The girls had just set a pan of cookies to bake when they arrived by floo.

Mrs. Weasley paused long enough from setting the table to give him a warm smile as Remus led him to the sofa. "Welcome back, dear," she said and he couldn't help but smile back, nodding his head in a gesture he hoped she would take for his gratitude.

Ron, who had been busy with a lone chess game, gave him a small nod of his own, which Draco returned just as the girls came from the kitchen.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, leaning down for a quick kiss despite the many eyes. She realized she didn't care what anyone thought anymore. After that scare, she didn't want to estrange him ever again.

"Something smells good," he smiled, taking her hand in hers when she perched on the arm of his chair.

"Cookies for all those with a sweet tooth," Ginny announced. "Should be ready in another ten," and she took Harry's hand as she spoke.

The adults had wisely left the living room, giving them privacy. The five of them had never really been alone since coming.

"Care for a game, mate?" Ron asked as he reset the board.

Harry glanced at the board, then at Ron's eager face before he felt Ginny squeeze his hand.

"Ah…" Harry began, uncertainly, but Draco, seeing his discomfort, cut in before he could start.

"I'll play you one, if you're up to it."

Hermione glanced nervously between them when Ron's eyebrows shot up. They seemed to regard each other with a cool stare before Ron merely shrugged.

"Sure." He brought the coffee table closer so Draco could reach and plunked in a chair on the other side. "White or black?"

"Doesn't matter."

"White then. Your move."

Draco pulled out his knight and while Ron contemplated his first move, Harry and Ginny quietly slipped out of the room. Hermione saw them go, wishing she could drag Draco away for herself. She had missed him so much, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Making sure the boys weren't going to whip out their wands any second, she retired to a nearby chair and summoned her Charms textbook. She reasoned she might as well be productive in the meantime. She half listened to the boys' wayward comments as she read.

"Clever," Ron murmured, frowning in concentration.

"You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley," Draco said after a moment. "I think you're the second person to last so long."

"Who was the first?"

Draco's smile seemed to falter. "Professor Snape."

"Oh." They resumed the game in silence thereafter.

By the time they finished their third set, both were frowning in concentration. They were two to one, with Ron winning. Draco had to admit he was a great strategist, for someone who was average at everything else. He marveled why he hadn't been the brains of the operation instead of Hermione.

But then, he realized Ron never compromised with the pieces. He charged ahead despite the danger of losing a piece-a one track mind. That would never work in a real war. Pawns were just as valuable as the more solid pieces. He did treasure his knight though. Most of his moves were carried out by the horseman and so Draco, being the ruthless tactician that he was, set out to destroy the knights before any other piece.

"Dirty move," Ron grumbled when Draco's bishop dragged his fallen knight off the board.

"You love your knight too much," Draco smirked.

"He's always won with it," Harry added as he came in, followed by Ginny who carried a fresh pan of cookies.

"Anyone hungry?" she asked, happily setting them down. Ron reached for one without further ado, munching in with a moan.

"These are 'eally 'ood", he spoke with a full mouth. "Chocolate and blueberry-haven't had that in a while."

Harry grinned as he bit in, moving the tray toward Hermione who was peeking curiously at the odd combination. "Want one?" he asked Draco who wrinkled his nose.

"I don't like blueberries-"

"Not like blueberries!" Ron cried, "Blimey, you're pickier than Ginny."

Draco frowned, but chose not to answer as he debated his next move. Hermione smiled at his turned back as she munched on a cookie. She helped Ginny sort the kitchen and was glad the boys had finished with their chess game when she returned.

Draco yawned, stretching in his seat. He smiled when their eyes met.

"Tired?" Hermione asked, brushing his blonde bangs lightly from his eyes.

"Hmm…Weasley actually made me think."

Ron, who was cleaning up the game, felt his ears turn red at the compliment, but he didn't snap back. He couldn't bring himself to. As much as he hated to admit it, Draco wasn't half so bad. Maybe Harry had a point. A bloke could change if he wanted to, couldn't he?

"Ron, we're going flying before it gets too dark," Harry announced as he and Ginny left the kitchen door.

"Wait, I'm coming!" he cried, scrambling after them, the chess pieces scattering in his wake.

Hermione shook her head as she watched him go before pulling out her own wand to straighten the mess. She turned to Draco again, who eyed her sleepily.

"Let's go up-" and Draco let her tug him to his feet. He followed her to the room he was sharing with the two boys and flopped onto his bed. Hermione crawled beside him on her knees, looming over him so that her hair fell around them both.

"Merlin, I missed you," he whispered, raising a hand to cup her cheek. She blushed under his intense stare and let him pull her down for a kiss. She melted under the assault of his fiery mouth and her body trembled when she felt his fingers brush up her bare arms.

"Draco," she breathed, trying to break the kiss.

Draco drew back and lay staring at her questioningly, a little irritated.

Hermione, who was very aware of how _alive _Draco felt beneath her blushed deeply at where her thoughts were going when her eyes wandered over his pale neck.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, chaffing her arms lightly. He wanted to get on with ravishing her lips, but he felt her hesitate.

"I-I just…Are we just going to kiss?"

Draco started. "What?"

Hermione had the decency to blush even more, her face and neck turning a brilliant shade of red and Draco couldn't help but snicker when he realized just what she had implied.

"Oh, you want to do more is that it?" he teased, "I can comply easily. You know I've wanted to ever since that day when you're mother-"

But Hermione didn't let him finish, choosing to silence him with a kiss instead. She moaned when he pressed their lips hard together. His hands were trailing up and down her back, tangling in her hair only to stroke her neck. Unconsciously, she straddled his hips and gasped when he brushed against her.

"Look what you do to me," he whispered, just as breathless, his pale face a faint pink from the heat of the moment.

"You're…" She stared at him, wide-eyed. Merlin, wasn't this what she wanted? To feel Draco, to know and see just how much they craved each other. She wanted to show him her love and she wanted to see his love for her. Without taking her eyes away from his hazy stare, she slowly lowered herself until he pressed into her heat.

"Hermione," he gasped, his fingers curling around her arms. He trembled when she titled forward, rubbing against him, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Oh, fuck…" he groaned, his own eyes falling shut under her assault.

She smiled, amazed at her power over him. Dipping her head, she kissed his neck and felt his Adam's apple bob nervously when his head tipped back. She licked his throat before letting her teeth scrape over his collar bone. He suddenly pulled her back by the shoulders.

"Hermione, what are you-?" he panted.

But she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. "Don't think," she whispered, "Just…I want to feel you. I _need _to feel you, Draco."

Draco was worried at her sudden desperation-this wasn't the level-headed Hermione he knew-but if this was what she wanted, he would give it to her.

"Draco-"

"Shh…" He slowly sat up and gently pushed her down so that their positions were reversed. She looked at him in anticipation when he began undoing his shirt buttons, licking her lips nervously as her stomach fluttered in excitement. She thought he took forever and wanted to reach out to yank the shirt off, but when he let the garment fall, all thoughts of irritation left her mind.

He was just as she had imagined: smooth, firm, perfect. His pale flesh glowed under the setting sun that flooded the room in warm orange and red. He was lean, but supple; thin, but strong.

He let her eyes wander over him, trying hard not to blush under her curious stare. When she sat up and reached out a tentative hand, he stayed put, his breath hitching when her soft fingers finally touched his chest. They brushed over his torso in a feathery touch, tracing the thin scars across his ribs and chest where Potter had cursed him.

She knew about the curse-knew what had happened in the bathroom-and her heart grew heavy when she thought of how much he had suffered even before they had become close. She looked into his eyes and read the nervousness and the _need _that was reflected in her own. Without a word, she took his hand and pressed it against her own chest.

"Show me how much you love me," she whispered, "I need you…"

There was no hesitation, no embarrassment, just a simple desperation that went straight to Draco's heart. She looked so vulnerable-so exposed-that he couldn't help but lock her in his arms and kiss her. She responded readily, deepening their kiss, pulling back just so to allow him to fumble with the buttons.

He undressed her, never breaking the kiss, until she wore only her inner garments. Then they drew back, panting and nervous.

"Are you sure?" he asked, lightly caressing her cheek which was warm and rosy.

"Absolutely," she whispered, falling back onto the pillows and staring at him expectantly.

Draco's mouth went dry when he looked at her-really looked at her. She was slim and petite-all curves and smooth limbs. Her legs were long for a girl and her waist slender. He tried to steady his breath as he leaned over her and kissed her softly. He felt her hand clasp his wrist before slowly she pressed his hand to her breast. She moaned when he touched her, arching off the bed.

He trailed kisses down her swan-like neck as he removed her bra. His lips teased her, nipping and sucking while she held his head to her chest, breathing hard. He wandered lower, kissing her stomach, letting his tongue dip into her belly button. She smiled then, squirming a little when it tickled, but gasped when his fingers pressed against her heat.

He looked at her, uncertainly, but eyes closed, she only moaned, thrusting her hips into his hand. Draco licked his lips nervously. He wanted to do this, but he had never done anything so intimate and he didn't want to hurt her. Taking a shaky breath, he let his instincts guide him, encouraged by her breathy moans.

She was practically writhing on the bed, her fingers tugging his blonde locks. She had never experienced anything so intense and yet so pleasurable in her life. She felt hot all over. Her senses were alive and begging for his touch, aware of only what his tongue was doing to her. She gripped his hair, wanting him to stop but to continue all the same. She didn't know how long more she could stand this before she went insane.

Her toes curled into the mattress. Her hands dug painfully in his hair as she arched off the bed, crying his name when an intense wave sent her over the peak. Seconds later, she collapsed boneless onto the mattress, breathing hard. She looked at Draco, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

He was flushed, his lips wet and rosy. He was panting, trembling…Hermione smiled weakly at him.

"That was…that was-"

"Unbelievable," he finished in a husky voice that shook with his need.

She loosened her hold and carded her fingers through his tangled locks. Sitting up, she cradled his face in her hands, her thumbs caressing his jaw. She felt him shiver. His jaw clenched at her touch.

Smirking, she pulled him onto the bed and reached for his pants, but he batted her hand away.

"Hermione-"

"What?" she scowled. "Don't you want me to do this?"

Merlin, if she only knew…But he held her wrists firmly. "I'm not forcing you to do anything-"

"Of course not," she cut in, letting him read the sincerity in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked for the second time and Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Almost. She appreciated his patience more than anything, but she knew what she wanted and she wanted to do this. She wanted him to _feel _her love for him. She wanted to show him how he had shown her.

She nodded once and this time, when she reached over to unclasp his belt, he didn't try to stop her. He leaned back on his arms and then helped her remove his pants. She could clearly see how much he wanted her even before they made light work of his boxers.

Hermione couldn't help but stare, not caring whether she made him uncomfortable. Draco said nothing, leaning back on his arms again. He let her do what she wanted, unsure whether he could handle anything more. This was already more than he could ever ask for and he didn't dare push his luck.

So he watched and waited as Hermione sank to her knees and touched him. His breath caught in his throat, but she was deaf to his harsh pants, too caught up in what she was about to do. She licked her lips and then slowly, tentatively, closed them over him. A wall of sensations crashed over him and he almost cried out, biting his lips at the last moment to stifle his moans.

When her tongue began to caress him, his arms shook and Draco sank onto his elbows, watching her through half-open eyes. Her own eyes were closed, a distinct blush across her cheeks, as she concentrated on pleasuring him just as he had pleasured her.

It wasn't as hard or as bad as she thought. He was so sensitive. She could feel him trembling, hear his uneven breathing, as she increased her pace. Her hands rested on his knees and she felt his tense muscles.

He tasted…It was hard to describe really. She had never tasted anything like this before. But it wasn't unpleasant. He was hot and hard, yet soft and vulnerable at the same time. When she flicked her tongue around him, she heard him moan and then gasp.

"F-fuck! Hermione…I-I'm…" He clutched her hair, pulling her away from him just as he came, crying out weakly and falling forward in her arms. She held him as he tried to catch his breath, warm against her neck. He was trembling violently, his fingers clinging weakly to her flesh.

"Draco?" she whispered, chaffing his back, worried. He shivered and she drew back to peer at his face. There were tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she panicked, afraid she had hurt him somehow, but he gave her a weak smile and shook his head.

"Nothing," he whispered, sinking back into her embrace. Hermione held him, unconvinced, but she knew better than to push him.

She stroked his back, licking her lips and blushing when she tasted him. Merlin, she couldn't believe what they had just done! It was a far cry from kissing, and much better, she thought. She felt him calm after a time.

"Draco?"

"Hmm…" He looked up, smiling, his grey eyes soft with an emotion she couldn't name.

"Are you ok?" She brushed back his bangs, feeling his forehead.

"Never better," he took her hand and kissed her palm. "No one's ever done that-It was…intense."

And she nodded, knowing perfectly what he meant. "But I didn't hurt you?"

"Of course not," he quickly replied, "I just-it was intense." He hoped she understood. He didn't know how else to convince her of how wickedly good she was with her tongue.

But she seemed convinced. "So what do we now?" she asked, a coy smile lighting her lips.

He smirked, thinking of a million things they _could _do, but before he could answer, a yawn escaped him. "Sleep," he whispered, pulling her down on the bed next to him.

"Sleep?" and Draco wondered if he imagined the disappointment in her voice.

"Sleep," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He sank into her warmth as exhaustion tugged at him.

He felt her draw up the blankets around them. Vaguely, he heard her whisper something in his ear before her lips pressed lightly against his forehead. Draco drifted in her arms just as she settled against him, perfectly content.

* * *

Hermione woke up to a wall of darkness, aware of Draco's warm embrace. She peered out the open window, noting that it was dark and the moon was up. How long had they slept? She shivered, carefully untangling her limbs from Draco's, smiling affectionately when he snuggled closer, holding her around the waist.

"Draco," she whispered, but he was still lost to the world. Leaning down, she blew softly, smirking when his bangs fluttered, tickling his nose. He moaned and batted at them.

"Draco, wake up," she said, shaking him lightly. He cracked his eyes open a fraction and peered at her groggily.

"It's probably past dinner. We should go down," she said, wondering if he even understood. He looked out of it.

"Let's not," he whispered, tugging her into his arms.

She giggled, feeling his naked body beneath the blankets. "We can't stay like this," she reminded him. "What if Ron and Harry come up?"

"They've probably already seen us." He smirked when she blushed in the dark.

"Well, either way-" she pushed him away gently, reaching for her discarded clothes. "I'm hungry, aren't you?"

He shrugged, content to lie back and watch her as she dressed, wanting to undress her as soon as the soft skin disappeared from view. She wore too many clothes.

"I think I'll sleep," he said, giving her a reassuring smile when she shot him a worried look. "I'm fine-honest. Just a bit tired. They told me I would be."

She bit her lip, but then nodded. Reaching out, she smoothed the blankets over him and it was such a motherly gesture that Draco couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. But then Hermione leaned down and kissed him softly, whispering a good night before she left. He sighed and curled onto his side, missing her warmth already.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_"Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced."_

_~ James Baldwin_

* * *

_Draco,_

_ I had hoped for good news from you, but if your last letter is any indication, things have gone from bad to worse. As disappointed as I am with you, I still harbored some hope that you at least would strive to restore our name in good faith. Getting intimate with the Granger girl was not what I had in mind. You know how much we have suffered. Our names, the Blacks and the Malfoys alike, have been tarnished by decisions our foolish ancestors made. Do not be like them Draco. I know I have never been one to uphold the pureblood flag around you, but this time, I'm afraid you have overstepped. Friendship might have been tolerated, Draco, but this intimacy is unacceptable. Even if I acknowledge her, do you really think the Wizarding community will welcome this union with open arms? You have already suffered enough, son, don't bring more bad will on your spirit. Do what you must for now, but after Hogwarts, I expect you to stick to tradition and choose someone worthy. I do not mean to be harsh love, but its time someone acted responsibly. Your father has already paid in full for his thoughtlessness. I don't want you, Draco, to meet a crueler fate. Please see reason. _

_With love,_

_Mother_

Draco closed his eyes and bit his lips to keep the frustration at bay. He should have expected this, but he had still hoped that his mother would understand. Narcissa had never been one to deny him anything. It was partially the reason why he was so spoiled. But, he sighed, this might have been one time too many. At least he knew she didn't despise the girl, despite snuffing her for her lower birth.

He wasn't angry at her. Far from it, he felt guilty for ruining her Christmas and giving her another cause to worry. He hated when his mother worried, now more than ever. He supposed he would end up making her happy nevertheless, although he couldn't even begin to imagine her reaction if he told her his reasons.

Sighing, he folded the letter back in its envelope and hid it in his trunk for good measure. He never wanted Hermione to find it. His mother's gray owl was already making to leave. He stroked its soft head, tying a small package to its outstretched leg. Then he carried it to the window and watched it take off to the grey skies, taking with it his Christmas present for his mother.

Christmas at the Weasleys was a grand affair. Draco still couldn't figure how this family managed to squeeze in so many people in their humble home. But no one complained about the cramped space. There was a smile on everyone's lips. Laughter rolled through every room t all decorated with Christmas festoons. The old tree stood in the center of the living room, its top brushing the ceiling, and it was decorated in every imaginable Christmas décor possible. The girls had even hung colorful streamers around it. It was a far cry from the stoic tree back at the manor that Draco was used to. He found he liked this cheerful atmosphere better.

"Crumpet?" Hermione asked, holding a tray out for him. They had been passing food on platters, seeing there was hardly any room for everyone at the table.

He took one and bit in, smiling at the sweet taste. "Aren't your parents coming?" he asked as she dug into her second.

"Professor Lupin's gone to get them," she said. "They should be here any second-"

And no sooner had the words escaped her then the green puff of the hearth spit out three people. Her parents blinked around in amazement as a horde of Weasley's attacked them, shouting "Merry Christmas!" Hermione, laughing, went to her parent's defense before her mother, who looked a little green, passed out from the sudden excitement.

"Looks like you won't catch her alone for some time," Harry teased him and Draco had the decency to laugh.

He had come to know the Boy-Who-Lived better over the break and found he very much enjoyed his company. He wasn't at all how Draco had expected him to be. He was witty and charming and knew how to lighten the mood. He didn't jump into situations as much as before and it was mighty hard getting him angry these days. Draco supposed the war had changed him and made him a better man, not that he was complaining. He was far more comfortable around Potter than any of the Weasleys.

"Professor Snape's here-"

Draco looked up in time to see the professor step through the hearth, brushing his elegant black robes and looking as stoic as ever. It was common knowledge that Severus Snape disliked large crowds-especially large happy crowds. He caught the man's eye and mouthed a Merry Christmas, which Snape returned with a nod and a tiny smile of his own.

As usual, the men and ladies parted ways, one group giggling away to the kitchen and the other grouping off to the living area. Draco followed Potter as he listened to Weasley rattling off the latest Quidditch scores. He was going on and on about the Cannons, a team Draco had never harped for.

They settled down on the couches, Draco some distance away, and he promptly tuned himself out, focusing instead on the intense chatter between Severus and Arthur about the goings on at the Ministry. It was easy for Draco to follow their conversation, having grown up in a politically tense environment. His father, strict as always, had made sure Draco was perfectly presentable in any sort of company before he even turned seven. In some ways, Draco was grateful for the man's harsh parenting, but in others, he wished he had had more of a heart.

"-co? Hello, you there?"

Potter's voice jerked Draco back. "Sorry, what?"

Potter gave him a half-amused look as he said, "We were just talking about Quidditch-I know you follow it."

"Um, yeah, I like to keep up. Why?"

"Who're you rooting for?" He picked up a slice of pie from the platter Weasley was passing around and the red-head offered the plate to Draco, who managed to decline politely. Food was the last thing on his mind right now.

"Not the Cannons," he casually replied, giving Weasley a small smile. "Although they're not doing so bad this year."

"I know what you mean," Weasley gravely replied, "It's all because of their new beater-Grimweld. Did you know that man used to be on the WWT?"

Draco laughed. "No shite?"

"I'm serious! Just look at his arms!"

"What are we talking about? What's WWT?" a very confused Potter asked.

"Wizard's Wrestling Tournament," replied Weasley while Draco reigned himself in. He hadn't laughed that hard in ages.

"Hang on, so you're saying the Cannons recruited a _wrestler _for professional Quidditch?"

"He's not that bad," Weasley defended, "And he can really swing that bat-you've seen him, Harry. Tell him!"

"He's good," Potter admitted, "But you never answered our question."

"Oh, what the team? Um, I like the Netherland Podwells-"

"The _Netherlands?"_ Ron shrieked, "But they're in the bottom ten!"

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, but Father used to support them and…well, I've got good memories from their games."

Draco saw Potter's eyes narrow a fraction and he quickly turned away. He knew how perceptive Potter could be, especially at reading other people, but there were some things Draco just didn't want to share with anyone, no matter how much he had come to accept them.

"Harry likes the Irish, don't you?" Ron teased, sensing their tension.

"What? Oh, yeah. Their's was the first match I saw, against the Bulgarians. Krum was intense. Hey, do you still have the…"

Draco tuned them out again, having drained his niceties for now. He felt tired. His mind wandered and he drifted back to the Quidditch games he had gone with his father. Lucious had always been a Quidditch enthusiast and he never failed to support his favorite team. Draco remembered tagging along to every single game ever since he was five. Sometimes, his mother accompanied them, but mostly it was just him and his father. Over the years, Draco had come to appreciate this boy's day out, being with just his father. They never really talked much, but his father was only ever relaxed at times like these and sometimes, if Draco was careful not to upset him, he saw glimpses of the man his father had once been: smart, quick, and sarcastic but witty.

They had stopped going to the games when Draco turned twelve. He had known it was because of the Dark Lord's rise again. Even now, a small part of him longed to go back to the time when he was just with his father, listening to him quip on about the teams. In a way, Draco supposed he did miss him because, evil though he was, Lucious Malfoy still had some space in Draco's heart. He had once shown him love after all.

"Lost in thought again?"

Draco looked up to see Potter smiling at him in a way that was both understanding and…sad. He dropped his gaze.

"Just thinking…Where's Weasley?"

"Helping Mrs. Weasley in the attic."

They sat silent for a time. The other adults had all moved into the kitchen and he could hear their voices, mingled with the delights of the girls'. He sought Hermione's lilt, smiling as he listened to her argue with Severus about the merits of one potion or the other.

"Is there, uh, something bothering you?" Potter asked and Draco replied easily,

"No."

But of course Potter saw through his white lie-it was one of the things he hated (admired) most about the boy. "You're thinking about your father, aren't you? He's been sentenced."

Draco sighed, knowing he couldn't walk away now. Damn Potter. "He'll likely get the Kiss, but he's as good as dead." Draco picked a cuticle as he spoke softly, almost shyly, "They won't let me see him, although I've tried. Mother saw him just before they put him in the isolation cells. He-he'll probably be Kissed without having the chance to say good-bye."

He could feel Potter's eyes on him, boring into him and peeling every layer. When he spoke, his voice was sincere, though wary. "Do you want me to see if Kingsley can pull some strings?"

He looked up, having expected as much, but startled that Potter was so ready to help him. "Can you do that?"

Potter gave him a thin smile. "A perk of being me, I guess. He's coming later tonight. I can ask him."

Draco swallowed thickly. "Yeah…Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks."

Potter just waved his hand. "Are you going to tell him?"

Draco shrugged. "He's going to die soon, Potter. Why add my troubles to his?"

"But wouldn't he-you know-like to know? He's your father."

Draco sighed. "Yeah, but he's not like most fathers. He won't sympathize if I tell him. He's always despised weakness."

Potter scoffed, "No offense, but Lucious never struck me as that strong. He contradicts himself too much."

Draco laughed quietly. "Yeah, I guess he does…It's the way he was brought up. My grandfather wasn't very forgiving and he liked to-to discipline my father."

Potter's eyes went wide. "Did he ever hit you?"

"No," Draco quickly replied and he thought he heard Potter sigh. "Father's always been better with words. But his time with his own father never left him the same. My grandmother died when he was ten and…well Mother told me that it got worse after that. He only ever got respite after grandfather's death."

He looked up at Potter, meeting is intense green stare. "My father isn't all that bad, Potter. I know he's done horrible things and he deserves to be punished, but he-he was too far gone by the time he realized what a mess he had tangled us into. He didn't have a choice-"

"We always have a choice," Potter cut in, quoting Hermione's words.

He smiled at the resemblance. "Yeah, you're right, but…it's not always easy, is it?"

The next morning, the Burrow raged with chaos as its habitant scrambled about packing bags and scattered belongings. Draco, who hadn't bothered to take everything out of his trunk, was the first one ready. He went down to the girl's room, leaving the other two to clean up their mess in peace.

"'Mione?" he knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

It flew open only to reveal Ginny Weasley with a comb in hand. "She's in the shower," she smiled, "But she'll be out. Wait on her bed if you want."

He stared for a moment before nodding and quickly crossing the room to Hermione's side. Their room was smaller than the one Draco shared with the boys, but it was far cleaner and it smelled nice. Hermione's trunk lay open at the foot of her bed, clothes scattered about and half a dozen things waiting to be packed.

"You didn't go home at all for Christmas, did you?" Weasley asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"No. My mother's in Germany," he replied, deciding to stay polite if she was.

"You haven't told her?"

He shook his head, wishing she would shut up. He didn't want to think about his mother. He was spared further questions when the bathroom door opened and Hermione stepped out, dressed in a brown bathrobe, her skin pink from the heat.

"Draco!" she smiled. "Packed already?"

He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, some of us keep our things tidy so it's less work."

"Hey! I was _repacking _mind you. Mrs. Weasley gave me a bunch of Christmas sweets and I had to make room."

"You can dump some in my trunk if you want. I've room."

"Seeing as you hardly brought anything-what?" she turned to Ginny who was laughing quietly.

She shook her head. "Nothing it's just, you guys are bickering like a married couple. It's kind of cute."

"What is with girls and "cute"?" Draco groaned. "Pick a different adjective, won't you?"

"I don't see what's wrong with "cute"," Hermione retorted, picking out her clothes. She thrust the trunk towards him. "Make yourself useful and pack my things while I change."

And she fluttered back into the bathroom before he could so much as huff. Draco gaped after her.

"See how she uses me?" he complained in a voice loud enough to carry through the closed door. "I feel like her bloody house elf!"

Ginny bit her lip from retorting as he dragged the trunk towards him, reaching down to fold her clothes nevertheless. She watched his reflection in the mirror as she packed her comb, thinking that perhaps he wasn't half bad after all. She was still a bit put off that Hermione hadn't chosen her brother, but, being a girl, she could see things from Hermione's point of view.

And watching the blonde boy carefully tucking in her friend's things, she understood.


	26. Chapter 26

**Noel Joy! ^_^**

**Chapter 26**

"_When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry_."

_~ William Shakespeare_

* * *

"Draco." Draco looked up to see Potter coming down the stairs, levitating his trunk behind him. "I've talked to Kingsley," he said as he set the trunk down.

Draco nodded. "And?"

"And he's arranged a visit for today."

Draco couldn't hide his surprise. "Really? But the school year-"

"He's taken care of that too."

"Wow that's-Potter I-" Draco began, but Potter held up his hand with an amused smile.

"Save it, Draco. If someone hears you thanking me, they'll die of shock."

Draco smirked. "Right. Well, where am I to meet him?"

"We're flooing to the ministry and then he'll take us to Azkaban."

"Us?"

Potter nodded. "Part of Kinsley's deal was I accompany you.

"Oh." Draco wasn't sure whether he wanted Potter to tag along, but he had delivered hadn't he?

* * *

They saw the rest off to the station.

"What will you say to him?" Hermione asked after they'd loaded their trunks.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in so long, I wonder if we'll have anything to say."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a comforting hug. "Well whatever happens, don't let him get to you, alright?"

Draco smirked, "Alright…mother," and earned himself a rightful smack.

* * *

"Ready to go?" Harry asked as they stood outside the Men's toilet.

Taking a deep breath, Draco nodded. He followed Harry inside and they each got in line in the queue of men. _There couldn't be a more disgusting way to travel, _Draco thought as he stepped into the bowl, grimacing, and quickly pulled the flush.

The hearth spit them out in green flames and they merged with the throng of Ministry workers, heading towards the fountain where Harry spotted Kingsley.

"Harry," the Minister greeted him with a smile and then sent a nod in Draco's direction. "I've arranged an hour. Loyd will accompany you and then bring you back."

A wiry wizard who carried a large set of keys gave them a toothless smile, which the boys meekly returned.

"This way Mr. Potter," Lolyd beckoned. They followed him into a side building and down a set of winding, narrow stairs.

"I thought we were flooing to Azkaban," Draco whispered when they paused for the elevator.

Harry shrugged. "I think Kingsley brought your father to the ministry for the visit."

Grateful as Draco was to learn he wouldn't have to endure the glum atmosphere of Azkaban, he thought it was cruel to give a dying man a taste of what he had lost.

"Through here's the prisoner," Loyd said, unlocking a heavy set of doors. "I'll be waiting outside till the time's up."

They nodded and Harry followed Draco into the dimly lit room. Even for a basement, it was comfortably furnished. There were no windows but several candles floating above shed decent light. Draco searched the room and his breath caught in his throat when he saw cool, grey eyes surveying him from the back wall.

"Father," he hoarsely called, attempting a thin smile. He glanced at Harry, who stood back and gave him a small nod.

Draco made his way slowly towards the silent man, dreading the sight. By the golden candlelight, Draco traced the worn features of what once had been a fine face. His father's bloodshot eyes bore tiredly into him, his fine lips, though chapped, pursed into a thin line, still maintaining the aristocratic air. He had grown thin and stooped. His long hair, once lustrous and silky, hung limp.

"Father, how-how are you?" he whispered, sitting on the edge of the armchair across from him.

"Why are you here?" Lucious gruffly asked, still staring at his son with blank eyes.

"I was able to arrange a visit. They wouldn't let me visit you before…" he wrung his hands nervously and dropped his gaze, giving in to the emotions he had masked for so long. "I've missed you, father."

Lucious didn't reply, but he turned his gaze to the back wall, seeming to see Draco yet not seeing him at all. Draco babbled on.

"Mother's doing alright now. She's…she's recovered. But it's not the same without you, Father. She still cries sometimes-"

"Why are you here, Draco?" Lucious asked again and this time, Draco detected the slight tremor that wasn't there before.

"I-I wanted to see you." Draco searched his father's eyes, wanting to see some sign of warmth-of longing-but only blank, red eyes stared back. He looked away. "If you don't want to see me, I'll go-I understand." And he made to get up, but Lucious' voice stopped him.

"Sit," he commanded and Draco stilled. He could feel the grey eyes surveying him, studying him. "Are you attending Hogwarts?"

Draco nodded, inwardly sighing with relief. "Yes."

"And you have plans for the future?"

He shrugged. "Yes."

They sat in silence again and Draco traced the pattern in the carpet till Lucious broke the silence.

"I hope Narcissa isn't coddling you. I may be in Azkaban, but I know the state of the Wizarding world. Are you still on terms with your housemates?"

Draco sighed, knowing he couldn't avoid the confrontation. "Things have changed, Father. My relations with-with a lot of people aren't the same anymore and I doubt things will ever go back to the way they once were."

"So our name has fallen out of favor," Lucious bitterly stated and shook his head.

"Does it really matter anymore?" Draco whispered, his fingers fisting the knee of his pants. "Is it so bad that things have changed for the better?"

Lucious huffed, "For the better? You think intermingling with mudbloods and squibs is for the _better_? I thought you were a bright boy, Draco, but I've sired nothing but a fool. As well you might be, since I married that useless woman!"

Draco closed his eyes, trying to quell his anger as his father went on a tirade. His parent's relationship had suffered during the war and after Narcissa's betrayal reached Lucious, he had refused to see her.

Draco wished he would forgive and forget, but his father had always harbored tremendous pride for all the wrong reasons and he wasn't about to forget his humiliation anytime soon. So Draco let him rage on and he listened, wondering how he could have been so blind as to worship the very ground this man had walked on.

When Lucious finally paused for breath, Draco spoke, "Mother's suffered a great deal. I know you don't approve of what she did, but she did it to protect me. If there is anyone you should blame, it is me. I'm sorry, father."

Lucious didn't reply. He simply stared and Draco, embarrassed by his outburst, hung his head, thinking that surely his father despised him now.

"You've changed," his father at last whispered and Draco looked up, giving him a quick smile when he detected no malice.

"I won't say what happened was right or what we did justified anything, but I don't regret that the Dark Lord lost….and I know you don't either, father. "

Lucious closed his eyes with a tired sigh. "The Malfoy name has always harbored respect, Draco. The taint of it now is unbearable."

Draco smiled sadly at his father who had no idea just how much hate their name invoked now. "I know, father. I'm doing what I can to erase the mark, but it's hard."

Lucious snorted. "Your mother's fled to Germany like the coward she is."

Although surprised his father knew, Draco hid his emotions well.

"What do you plan to do, Draco? With the war over, you are free to choose your path. Have you thought about your future at all?"

Draco didn't immediately reply. He studied his hands, trying to fabricate an answer that his father would buy.

"I've thought about going to Germany after Hogwarts. They have better prospects there in potions and Arthimancy."

"So you've dropped your ridiculous notion of being an Auror?"

Draco couldn't help but laugh shortly. "Yes, I'm sure you're relieved."

"I never saw much sense in suicide...Don't throw your life away Draco. You're the sole heir to our name now. I don't want to see you waste this life away."

And Draco, who was an expert at reading between the lines, understood his father's message: _Don't make the same mistakes I did. _

"I won't, father," he quietly replied.

A part of his heart brimmed with love for this man who had the humility in him to acknowledge his wrongdoings-albeit in a round-about way. It gave Draco hope that perhaps his father wasn't as heartless as they all thought-that there was still some chance to salvage his soul and save him from the madness many of the Dark Lord's followers succumbed to.

"Will you write to me?" he asked, licking his lips and praying his father wouldn't get mad at his weak plea.

Lucious blinked. "Write to you?"

"I'd like to…keep in touch-know how you're doing. I'll be able to tell you what's going on…if you'd like."

When Lucious continued to stare, Draco looked away, trying to hide the heat that rose to his cheeks. "I'm sorry, father. I'm being a nuisance."

A loud knock on the door announced the end of their visit. Draco looked at his father, whose eyes hadn't left him. He knew this could probably be the last time he ever laid eyes on this man. He tried to quell the tremors in his arm as he extended it.

"Father," he whispered, unable to hide the emotion in his voice, "I-I'll miss you."

Lucious glanced at his trembling hand, his grey eyes wincing with an emotion Draco couldn't place, before he clasped him by the wrist and pulled him into his arms. Draco gasped when his father's long arms, strong and warm despite the months in Azkaban, embraced him tightly.

He closed his eyes and buried his face against his father's shoulder, inhaling his musky scent. He could feel his father's breath on his neck, deep and unsteady. His fingers caressed his back briefly, one arm snaking up to touch the back of his head.

"I'll write," Lucious hoarsely whispered against his ear before loosening his hold.

Draco stood, blinking fast to control the tears that rose to his eyes. He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak, before he gave his father's hand one last squeeze.

Lucious said not a word more when Draco turned to leave, but he didn't try to hide his moist eyes, his gaze following his son until he disappeared through the door.


	27. Chapter 27

_Dear Readers,_

_I suppose it's a tad bit late, but Happy Valentine's Day! There's a treat for you in this chapter!_

_XOXO,_

_Pepper_

**Chapter 27**

_"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."  
~Alfred Lord Tennyson_

* * *

After returning to Hogwarts, the weeks that followed were extremely busy. All the professors seemed determined to make them exercise their brains in preparation for the coming exams. Even Hermione, much as she loved to learn, was feeling stressed by the amount of pressure. It didn't help that she was taking three extra classes.

There wasn't a moment when Draco didn't see her with her nose buried in some textbook or muttering spells under her breath as she briskly walked to class. It was stressful just being around her these days and Harry and Ron, who were all too aware of her moods, made sure to give her a wide berth whenever they ventured in her company.

Draco tried to give her space as well-she didn't take notice of him these days anyways. Their dorm common room was littered with open textbooks and pieces of parchment blotted with ink. Her notes were everywhere when she wasn't pouring over them.

Draco couldn't wait till the exams were over. He wanted to pull her into his arms again and kiss her till she melted. He had never been the physical sort, hating it when other people touched him, but he wanted to feel her soft lips and hands roaming over him. He wanted to taste her and smell her hair.

Draco shook his head out of the clouds and blinked at his Transfigurations notes. He was in the library, trying to get some studying done till lunch. The library was packed with NEWT students cramming, grumbling, and whispering spells.

Draco leaned back in his seat and momentarily closed his weary eyes. Professor Snape had told him not to become too stressed, but his nerves were shaky at best. He wasn't too worried about his exams really. He wondered what good they would do him in the long run anyways.

Given his past, Draco's job prospects looked bleak and even if he did decided to study, he doubted he would get the chance to finish whatever he chose to start before the disease consumed him.

He sighed and pulled his notes closer, ignoring the fatigue that made his limbs feel weak as he leaned over on his elbows and frowned in concentration.

"Mind if I sit here?" Draco looked up, startled to find Weasley towering over him.

"Everywhere else is full," the tall boy sheepishly explained and Draco mutely nodded, making room on the table as Weasley slid into the seat across from him.

"Where's Potter?" Draco asked, having noticed the two were inseparable.

"Hermione's helping him with a Charm's spell. They're in the Gryffindor Common Room."

"Oh."

They both fell silent. Weasley pulled out his Potions work and sat frowning at the textbook, occasionally blotting something down and muttering things. Draco tried to concentrate on his own work, but it was hard. He didn't feel like studying and his mind felt numb. It was an unfortunate side effect of all the pain potions, this lack of concentration. The professors, who had been informed of his predicament, had generously granted him a half hours extra time on each exam, but Draco wondered if it would help.

"What in Godric's name does this mean?" Weasley suddenly cried, turning the book and thrusting it in Draco's direction.

Draco debated for a fraction of a second whether to sneer or not, but then he thought better of it and leaned over to examine the problem. It was the chapter on potions that tampered with a person's dream and mental states.

After skimming the chapter, Draco looked up. "What don't you get?"

Weasley, who was scowling either at his own lack of understanding or Draco's casual acceptance, replied, "Everything. I don't bloody understand how to study for this subject. There aren't any spells to memorize-only a hundred thousand recipes. How does he expect us to remember everything, that bloody Snake!"

Draco smiled, amused. "You don't have to memorize everything. Just understand what things are used for and know what the properties are. If you get that, then it's not hard to know what goes in a certain potion. Bit like cooking, you know?"

Weasley gave him a half mortified, half bemused look. "I can't believe you gave me a straight answer and talked about something as normal as _cooking _in one sentence, Malfoy. I reckon 'Mione's rubbing off on you."

Draco merely inclined his head. "Have you finished the other subjects then?"

"Sort off. I'm not that worried about them-only this and Transfigurations really. You?"

He sighed. "I'm getting along."

Weasley scrutinized him for a second and Draco dropped his gaze to his book, not wanting to see pity or _concern _in Weasley's eyes for him.

"You know, 'Mione's great help when it comes to studying. I can't believe you two haven't holed up together."

He shook his head. "She makes me nervous."

Weasley snorted. "I get that-she's a ball of stress isn't she?" And there was a fondness in his voice that clenched at Draco's heart. He bit his lips.

They returned to their books and studied in silence till it came time for lunch. Weasley actually waited for him till he finished packing and they headed down to the Great Hall together, parting ways at the entrance with a simple nod that confirmed the silent truce at long last.

* * *

Draco wiped his mouth with a shaky hand as he threw up for the fourth time that day. It was getting worse and with the exams looming, the tense atmosphere was grating on his thin nerves.

"Draco!" He heard Hermione come in.

"In here," he weakly called back, washing his mouth over the sink.

"Are you alright?"

He looked at her reflection in the mirror, noting how her brown eyes sported just a dot of fear.

He nodded, giving her a thin smile. "Taking a break?" he asked, changing the subject as he led her out of the room.

She sighed. "For a bit-Ginny dragged me out of the library and Harry hid my books so I've got no choice."

Draco laughed. "You must be the first person in history who enjoys studying so much." He took her hand in his, tracing her knuckle with thin fingers. She reached out and played with the strands of blonde tresses that fell on his lapel.

"I have to. If I want to become something-someone-I have to study," she replied.

"Why do you try so much?" he softly asked. _What are you trying to prove?_

She looked into his eyes, her own unsure, before leaning into his chest. "I never thought I would survive the war," she whispered. "Every day, there were new fears to face. We were constantly on the run, but now that it's over, I feel like I can finally breathe." She looked up, her lips hovering below his.

"I've learned to cherish my time from this, Draco. I don't want to waste anything I've been given-not this opportunity to learn or to be with you or to hang out with the others. I'm not going to squander any of this."

He smiled and pecked her lips. "You're doing a mighty good job, you know that? I bet the Minister's going to come to our coronation with your test scores."

She huffed, but didn't mind his teasing. She knew she had been neglecting him, but she was glad he understood, although a little surprised at his meek acceptance. Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pressed her against him.

He was warm, his breath minty. She bit his lip lightly before taking his wrist and pulling him to the bed. He followed her without question, reclining down on his back as she straddled him and their lips reconnected.

He ran his hands up and down her slender arms, feeling the soft skin, smelling the flowery scent of her hair as it cascaded around them in a brown curtain. He arched into her kiss and heard her moan as their lips intertwined.

She broke away abruptly only to pull her jumper over her head and toss it to the ground before resuming the kiss. Draco clutched her petite waist to steady her as he sat up, deepening their kiss and pushing her onto her back so that he was on top.

Leaning down, he attacked her neck, smothering it with his lips and tongue, teeth. She threw her head back, her fingers fumbling impatiently with his shirt buttons. Draco let it slide off his shoulders before throwing it next to her jumper.

Before long, the carpet was littered with their discarded clothes and the bed creaked lightly under their weight. Her moans and needy whimpers filled the room.

"Draco," she whispered, cradling his face in her hands and looking into his hooded eyes. "I want you."

He stilled above her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"But what about-" She pressed her fingers against his swollen lips.

"I took care of it. Ginny…"

He nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He was as nervous as she was and his shallow pants joined her nervous breaths.

She lay still beneath him, waiting with abated breath. When he pressed against her heat, she gasped, and closed her eyes. Draco, for his part, was watching her every expression, concentrating hard to be gentle and not rush. She had never done this before.

Her hands grasped his biceps at the first intrusion, her nails clawing his skin. Draco leaned down and gently teased her neck to distract her from the pain, but the tears followed nevertheless.

He bit back his own urge as he forced himself to move slowly. Soon enough, her legs snaked around his waist, pushing him further until she demanded more. He complied easily enough.

By the time it was done, both were panting as though they had run a marathon. Draco slid next to her, utterly spent, his breath ragged. She turned on her side to rest her head on his chest, listening to his mad heart beat as it raced in time with her own.

"Are you alright?" he asked when he had caught his breath.

She smiled at him and nodded. "More than ever."

Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her warmth seeping into him and her soft body pressed against his. He felt her fingers trace his lips lightly.

"Tired?" she softly asked.

"Mmm…" Her fingers were soothing. He turned towards her touch and heard her laugh lightly.

As his mind drifted, he heard the rustle of blankets before they enveloped him and he pulled her close, pressing his face against her chest before giving in to Sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28  
**

_"One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope."_

_~Steven Deitz (American Playwright)_

The exams came sooner than anyone would have liked. Hermione, who had spent the whole day before worrying, muttering, and rereading notes was still worried that she had missed something. Harry and Ron told her she was delusional, and Draco secretly agreed. He, like the rest of the school, had no doubt she would pass with flying colors and more.

For his part, Draco wasn't so worried. He had done what he could and given his circumstances, that was all anyone could ask of him. They arrived for their first exam at 7 o'clock Monday morning and were done with the last around noon on Friday.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief after it was over, but none more so than Hermione who was smiling for the first time in weeks. Draco found he missed her smile.

It was a beautiful afternoon as well, winter having thawed and spring blooming its way towards summer. The odd group spent the rest of the day lazing about by the lake, eating cakes and throwing bits to the giant squid rumored in the waters.

With their exams done, they had nothing to do the last weeks, but the professors had career meetings planned. They had scheduled times with their Head of House to possible explore options they had after graduating.

Hermione was brimming with prospects and Harry and Ron had their hearts set on becoming Aurors. Draco smiled outwardly, but inside he stirred with disappointment. He dreaded the meeting with Snape.

Since his diagnosis, the professor had been strangely accepting of him, although he still looked at him with some form of wariness. There was a softness in his eyes that Draco hadn't seen since he was a boy.

"Hello Professor," he greeted as he stepped into the dingy office, pulling a chair.

Snape, who was pouring over rolls of parchment, looked up and gave him a nod. He stared at Draco down his crooked nose until the blonde squirmed in his seat.

"Well? What options do I have?" he asked at last, giving the man a tight smile that conveyed his discomfort nevertheless.

Never a man to beat around the bush, Severus decidedly replied, "Not many, though it mustn't come as a surprise to you."

Draco sighed. "It doesn't matter anyways. Even if someone is delusional enough to hire me, I doubt I'll be able to work."

He fingered the arm of the chair, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. "It's getting worse. I…I'm sure I'll have to go to the hospital soon."

"Have you told your mother?" and Snape's voice was so quiet-almost _gentle- _that Draco met the man's eyes, which blatantly betrayed _concern _and for him nevertheless! For a moment, Draco wondered if he should ask why the man cared, but he held his tongue, knowing how short-tempered his Head of House was.

"I plan to-before I return home."

"I think it's best if you tell her in person." There was no telling what state the woman would work herself into given her delicate disposition.

Draco knew that much, but he didn't want to see her expression when he broke the news. He had had enough of her tears and hysterics during the war. He didn't want to be the cause of it again now.

Snape, who seemingly understood his dilemma, asked, "Would you like me to inform her?"

Draco didn't reply immediately, wondering again why the man was being so nice. When Draco didn't answer, Snape pressed, "It's not your fault, Draco."

And Draco wondered whether the man referred to the disease or what had happened during the war. "I-I know you're busy-"

"I am your Head of House. It's my duty to correspond with the parents should the need arise."

He nodded then, licking his lips. "Well, thank you then. I'd like that."

Severus gave him a tight nod. Draco rose to go. He was almost at the door when Severus stopped him.

"Draco, should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

A little surprised, but grateful nevertheless, Draco gave him a thin smile and a quick nod. He was out the door before his nerves betrayed any more emotion.

* * *

"Are you going to see your mum?" Hermione asked as they lay side by side late in the evening.

"Hm…I'll have to," Draco replied, tracing the faint lights in the ceiling which were vaguely spinning.

She turned on her side and propped herself on her elbow, smiling down at him, her brown hair seeming to glow in the golden light. She trailed soft fingers up his naked torso, stopping to trace his lips, red from their recent ravishing.

"You're not tired?" he asked, snapping his jaw. She giggled, withdrawing her fingers only to card them through his tousled hair.

"Insatiable nymph," he murmured when she leaned down for a kiss. He kissed back hungrily and soon they were once again entwined in each other's arms, the bed groaning under their antics.

Draco was a silent lover, only gasping occasionally, but Hermione made up for him with her breathy moans and pleas for more. She really was insatiable, something Draco found quite amusing, if not a bit apprehensive.

"Oh, Draco," she whispered when he slid atop her, panting hard, their bodies gleaming with sweat.

She held his head against her chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart in time with her own. She couldn't remember how many times they had made love in the weeks following the exams. It was as though, after the first time, there was an invisible magnet that seemed to always pull them together, craving more each time.

She couldn't get enough of him and he was equally eager to devour her. They had both been in bed since yesterday and hadn't left the room save for a quick snack in the dorm kitchen. He had been unusually attentive in the past weeks and more than once, she had caught him staring at her wistfully, almost _sadly. _

She knew he was hiding something from her, but she was loathed to press him. He wouldn't let her ask questions anyway, choosing instead to silence her with his lips. So they tip-toed around the issue and distracted themselves with each other.

Draco idly traced her rosy neck with his eyes. He was exhausted. She spoke softly to him-no…she was humming some far off melody that he couldn't quite make out because of the invisible muffs on his ears. Her touch was very light as she chaffed his arms, holding him close. He could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck.

Draco closed his eyes, blocking out the dizziness, and concentrated on her sweet voice. He wanted to curl around her, mold her pliant body to his, but his limbs felt heavy. She gently turned him on his back instead and he saw her hovering over him, looking worried.

He smiled and her lips twitched into a faint smile as well. _I'm alright, _he mouthed because he couldn't seem to get his voice to work. She read his lips and gave him a small nod, brushing back his damp hair.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "We should take it slow…"

But he shook his head. He needed this- he needed _her. _Reaching out a trembling arm, he brushed her rosy cheeks and tugged her hair so that she leaned down. Closing the small gap between them, he crushed his lips to hers and pulled her down with him.

They hardly slept that night. They hardly even spoke, too busy exploring each other over and over again. Draco's hands worshipped every inch of her body, his eyes dark with lust, intent on mapping her every contour.

She couldn't understand his sudden hunger, but she hardly complained. She let her hands roam his flat planes, trace the angles in his face, and cradle his strong jaw.

When Dawn found them, they were tangled in a single sheet, limbs intertwined and their bodies molded as though one. You couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

* * *

He knew what he had to do. He had made up his mind after his stay at the Weasleys. Draco hated suffering-he had seen too much of it-and the last thing he wanted was to inflict it again on someone he held dear.

Those around him seemed to suffer. It was true during the war he had seen it in his parents' haunted faces and it was true now that the disease was consuming him. He loved her without a doubt and that's why-that's why he had to do it.

He had to leave.

* * *

Hermione remembered that day vividly. She remembered coming too from a sleep deeper than any she had had since the war. She remembered smiling when she thought of yesterday and the feel of the hard, pale limbs and surprisingly soft lips. She remembered reaching out in blind sleep and fumbling for his form, but her fingers grabbed air.

She remembered sitting and searching for him groggily, calling his name, walking around in all her naked glory down the sunlit stairs. She remembered panicking when he was nowhere to be found. Her breath caught in her throat when she failed to find his shoes, books, trunk…Everything was gone…He was gone.

She couldn't remember anything after. Her own cries still echo dimly in her ears. Voices she can't place float in and out of her consciousness, begging, crying, coaxing…but she doesn't understand.

At times, there are arms around, but she is all too aware of their unusual strength. They aren't bony-not slender. And the smell is different. He smelled like warm coffee and cream and chocolate…

She knows she is crying-the tears are never ending, but there is always someone to support her, cradling her in their arms, brushing back her hair, wiping her nose…She tries to push them away, but they refuse to budge. The arms tighten around her, the voice drops to a soothing murmur, and she listen as they rock her.

"It'll be alright, 'Mione. We'll find him-he can't have gone too far. We'll bring him back, you'll see. It'll be alright-you'll be alright…" She vaguely recognizes the voice and she trembles. He had always been there when she most needed him-through the war and now, after. She clung to him for dear life, feeling guilty for using him, but knowing that she would fall without his embrace. And he let her.

Ron Weasley cradled her as she wept.


	29. Chapter 29

_Get ready for another twist!_

**Chapter 29**

_"Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what it loves."_

_~ Blaise Pascal** (1623 - 1662)**_

* * *

Harry didn't know how many times Hermione cried in the days that followed. While students were busy getting ready for the summer, those closest to Hermione spent their days counting down till she found her ground.

It wasn't easy. Ron and Harry had had no luck tracking Draco down. Even the professors didn't know where he had gone. He had told no one-not even Professor Snape-or so the man said. Harry suspected otherwise and he would be damned if he let the man get away with lying again.

"I know you know, Professor," he said for the tenth time that day, ignoring the Professor's annoyance at his intrusion. "He must have told someone and I can't think of anyone better than you."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, he confided nothing in me-"

"Well he can't have just up and left! I know Draco was feeling worse than usual since the exams. In his state, I doubt he could even apparate off the grounds-"

"And what makes you think I helped him?"

"You're his Head of House-"

"Exactly and as such, I would never allow a student to simply walk away during term."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Severus silenced him with a glare. "I know you want to find him for the sake of Ms. Granger, but you simply cannot harness him like a pet, Potter. He is gravely ill and in his state, he made the decision to leave thinking it was for the best. I think you should leave it up to him to decide whether to come back or not."

Harry mutely nodded, mumbled a thanks to the professor for his time, and walked out. He slumped against the dungeon wall, rubbing his tired eyes. For all his courage and steadfastness, Snape knew nothing about love. The man was wrong.

Draco simply _couldn't _walk away-Harry couldn't allow it! Didn't he realize how much pain his disappearance was causing Hermione? Didn't he realize that they didn't care about his disease-his weakness-as long as he continued to remain a part of their lives?

Harry didn't really know when or how, but Draco _had _become a part of him and not seeing him around after all this time was a little unsettling…and concerning. He pushed off the wall and sulked back to the Common Room. There were hardly any students inside, it being a beautiful day and the end of exams.

Ron and Seamus were playing wizards chess near the hearth while the girls occupied the back sofa. Ginny was quietly talking to Hermione who was staring at the ground blankly. She had become unusually quiet and Harry winced when he saw the dark circles under her eyes. At least she wasn't crying. He gingerly sat next to her, giving his girlfriend a smile, receiving a tight one

in return.

"Hermione, we're all leaving tomorrow," he said, "Will you be coming to the Burrow-or do you want us to see you home?"

She sighed, before whispering, "Home…I want to go home." She wasn't looking forward to going back because she knew her parents, especially her mother, would have something to say when they saw her in this state. She wondered aloud whether it was wise to go home at all.

"You know you can stay with us," Ginny replied, patting her shoulder. "And we're going to keep trying to find Draco, aren't we Harry?

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah, Ron and I thought we'd contact the Floo Personnel-see if they have any portkeys or information under his name."

Hermione raised hollow eyes at him. She was glad they were trying for her sake, but she knew that if Draco didn't want to be found, they weren't likely to uncover his tracks. It was times like these that she wished she hadn't fallen for someone so cunning, manipulative, and utterly _human _as Draco Malfoy.

* * *

As promised, once off the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Mr. Weasley saw her off at the muggle bus station. She took the same journey home that she had taken that Christmas Break with Draco.

It seemed ages ago. Hermione wished she could reverse time just to catch his smile one more time. She wondered when – _if _she would ever see him again. She wasn't stupid and as angry as she was at him for deserting her, she knew he never meant to…but had felt he had to.

She resented him for not trusting her with his problems. She resented him for being too kind and considerate. She resented him for his thoughtlessness, but most of all, she resented him loving her enough to sacrifice both their happiness.

If he had done it out of spite, perhaps she could have forgiven him in her heart and moved on. But Draco Malfoy loved her above all things-above his own selfish needs- and this, she could never forgive nor forget.

* * *

The weeks that followed were eventless at the Burrow, but Harry couldn't be happier for the monotonous life. He had Ginny and he had a family he could call his own. There were late nights up, long walks, quiet talks, outdoor games, and wonderful dinners and Harry was here to stay.

Still, happy as he was, Hermione was constantly on his mind. They hadn't heard from her since seeing her off, but Mrs. Weasley reasoned she needed time to gather herself and that her should giver her pace.

So they waited for her word and continued their search. Having signed up for the Auror Program at the Ministry, Harry and Ron kept in touch with the Missing Persons Department for any word of Draco. So far, they had received only disappointing nods.

When he wasn't busy memorizing spells, learning basic healing, or on the lookout for Draco, he divided his time between Ginny and Ron. He had grown closer to Ginny since the war and he wanted to be there for his best mate who was trying to put on a brave face yet again for the sake of his family.

As happy as he might have been to get rid of the blonde under different circumstances, Ron silently cursed him for keeping true to his word. He had never believed Draco would leave. Had it been him in Draco's shoes, Ron would rather have killed himself than abandon Hermione. He knew that as hard as it might have been for the young couple given Draco's disease, it was harder to endure being separated.

Since word of his disappearance reached him, Ron had harbored a small hope that she would come back to him. He had held her when she cried and tried to comfort her the best he could. She had clung to him desperately, but no matter what anyone said or did, nothing could pull her from her sorrow.

Ginny told him not to lose hope, but Ron knew she loved him more than time itself and he realized then that he could never manipulate her. He could never make her his. So he was trying to move on…and failing miserably.

* * *

It was almost a month later that heard from her. A single letter arrived during breakfast addressed to Harry and he hastened to open it. It was written in another hand he didn't recognize:

_Harry,_

_I'm writing as a very worried father. Hermione is ill-she has been for about two weeks. I would have written sooner if she hadn't convinced me not to bother you. We have shown her to several doctors, but they have been unable to diagnose her. She is feverish, constantly nauseous, and refuses to eat anything. The past two days, she has been unable to leave her bed. _

_I feared it was depression at first, but her symptoms are unnatural. Harry, as angry as we are, we don't blame the boy for his recklessness. After Hermione finally explained the circumstances, we can hardly hold a grudge against him. We're just afraid to lose our daughter. _

_Please help,_

_Thomas Granger_

Harry's hands shook as he passed the letter. There was silence around the table.

"We have to bring her here," Molly firmly said as she folded the letter. "There is nothing they can do for a pregnant witch."

* * *

_Note: I made up her father's name. I quite like the idea of her having a British father and a French mother._


	30. Chapter 30

_Author's Note: Hi guys! So if you've bothered reading my profile, I've got a new site where I'm posting fanfic. Don't worry, I'm going to finish ACA here, but if I decide to have a sequel of some sort, it'll be on my new site. Just a heads up!_**  
**

**Chapter 30**

_"In true love, the smallest distance is too great, and the greatest distance can be bridged"_

_~ Hans Nouwens_

* * *

For a time, she had suspected the cause of her sudden illness-a simple spell after four days of vomiting had confirmed it: she was three weeks pregnant. Shocked, she had tried the spell three more times.

Wondering where she had gone wrong, she sank against the wall. Each time she had made sure to use protection. Draco wasn't too keen on it, so she had borrowed and later bought some pills of her own.

Then how was it possible? She wasn't angry at him-neither had planned for it, but…now what? Alone in the bathroom, Hermione sat lost in thought for what must have been hours. Only when her mum came knocking on the door did she tiredly open it.

Her parents were worried-she could see it in their eyes-and she knew she wasn't looking her best these days. She was tired and a bit sore and afraid of eating incase it came back up. She wanted to tell them that it would be fine and that _she _was fine, but she couldn't bring herself to lie.

When her indifference took the toll, her father wrote to the Weasleys and now she stood in their kitchen, watching Molly nervously as the woman bustled about setting dinner. She could hear Poppy Pompfrey talking in the living room to her parents and bit her lips when a dreaded silence followed.

"Hermione?" her mum's trembling voice reached her ears and she turned around to see her standing lividly in the doorway, her father equally as pale behind her. "Is this true?"

She fought back the tears that rose and nodded.

"How long have you known?"

"T-two weeks."

A pained expression flitted across her mother's face and she waited with bated breath for the scolding, but…Her mum crossed the small kitchen and pulled her into her arms.

"And you couldn't tell your mum?" she whispered. Hermione broke down. She sobbed in her embrace as her mum rubbed her back. She could feel her father standing behind her, a hand on her bent head.

"We aren't mad at you, hon," he said, "But promise you'll never try to hide something like this again."

Sniffing, Hermione looked up and nodded.

"There now dearie, how about a bit of soup?" Molly kindly broke in, settling a steaming bowl of broth on the table that smelled sinfully delicious. Hermione didn't know just how hungry she was until she swallowed a spoonful of the tasty goodness. Molly Wealsey may not have been the brightest witch of the year, but she certainly wielded magic in the kitchen!

She ate in silence for a time. Her father had joined Arthur in the living room and she could hear them quietly talking to the boys. She vaguely wondered what Harry and Ron thought of her now.

"Why couldn't the doctors diagnose me?" she suddenly asked to distract herself.

"Oh, a baby with any trace of a pureblood lineage is hard to detect in the beginning, even with magic," Molly replied. "It's a form of ancient magic-the mother's magic conceals any traces of the baby for its own protection until the baby's magical signature is strong enough."

"It will develop like a…normal baby?" her mum asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

Molly smiled kindly. "Of course, dear. A magical pregnancy is in every way the same as a muggle one."

Hermione saw her mother sigh and she couldn't help but smile thinly. "You don't mind if I decide to keep it then?"

Her mother shook her head. "That's up to you, Hermione, but you're only eighteen and alone. We'll support you no matter what choice you make, but raising a baby isn't easy."

Hermione set down her spoon, staring at the half empty bowl. "You don't think it's a good idea then?"

"I'm not saying that, but you must think about this carefully. That child will need your love and care. You'll have to devote yourself to them. You won't be able to have the sort of life you've been planning…Do you understand, love?"

Hermione closed her eyes. She knew having this baby would change her life-for better or worse she couldn't say. But this was _her _child-_Draco's _child! It had a part of him in it. How could she abandon it then?

"I know mum," she quietly replied, picking up her spoon. "I understand that, but I've made up my mind."

She was going to have this baby-this beacon of hope.

* * *

_A Month Later…_

In a sterile room thousands of miles away from London, Narcissa Malfoy sat silently holding a thin, pale hand in hers. It had been almost a month since her son passed from Hogwarts and came home-or what she had come to call home. Living with her sister for the better part of a year, Narcissa had finally come to appreciate what her sister always had and what she had always lacked: a sense of contentment and inner strength.

But now, sitting in the white room with its pristine floors and bare, white walls, any sense of peace and strength had fast left her. She sat as she had for the past five hours, stroking her son's thin hand and watching him as he slept under a drug-induced sleep. Although she wanted him awake and talking and _laughing, _Merlin help her she couldn't bear to watch him suffer the agony he had endured for the past week after he had suddenly taken a turn for the worst.

They had brought him to the nearest Wizarding hospital in the middle of the night and here he had remained for the past seven days, barely awake or coherent to even remember his name. Several saline drips floated behind his bed like colorful balloons, snaking potions into the vein in his arm, and a nurse popped in at odd hours of the day and night to check the tubes and jot down things on a clipped pad.

Narcissa had long since stopped asking them questions, knowing the answer would always be the same: that her son needed to rest, that there was little else they could do for him save keep the pain at bay and keep him comfortable. In her desperation, she had flooed the Potions master at Hogwarts, begging him to help her son. It was he who had told her the nature of Draco's condition after all while Draco had stood silently by, holding her only when she broke down crying. But there was nothing even someone as intelligent and determined as Severus Snape could do.

Her son was dying-Draco was dying-and all Narcissa could do was watch and smile for him when he couldn't.

* * *

_Seven Months Later…_

It was getting difficult to move around. Hermione no longer tried to sit or stand up by herself without the ever ready offer of someone's arm. She had never expected she'd become so big! The healer had told her she was having a baby boy-not twins-but her mother and Molly couldn't be happier. As much as she hated how awkward she had become, they counted it as a blessing, saying the baby would be healthy and chubby as a cherub. And that's all any expecting mother could wish for.

* * *

_Two More Months After…_

Hermione couldn't stop staring at the small form wrapped in soft, blue blankets. It had been three weeks since she had come home with her baby-her new-born son-in her arms and she was hard pressed to leave him even for a second.

He was a wonder to behold-even though all he seemed to do was drink milk at odd intervals, yawn, and sleep before the cycle began again. He hardly cried and they marveled at how clear his eyes were for an infant's. His tiny hands with wrinkly soft skin were still balled up in little fists and he had a habit of clutching the edge of the blanket or whatever else snaked its way into his clutches.

He was equally bald as all newborns were, but there were wisps of curling blonde hair here and there that pulled at Hermione's heart whenever she touched them. He had Draco's hair, although by the looks of it, it would be wild like her's. The color of his eyes was too soon predict-it resembled neither of them for now, but Hermione hoped it would be moon-grey like his father's. She didn't think she would be the least disappointed if their son didn't look at all like her because having him here, bearing traces of the man she loved, made her feel closer to Draco and increased her longing.

They had had no luck in finding him. He had completely disappeared and it seemed not even the Aurors could locate him. Ron and Harry hadn't given up, of course, but their hope was thinning. Still, Hermione wanted to believe for the sake of the baby that snuggled against her, that they would find Draco. They had to, she firmly told herself, before it was too late.

* * *

_Two Years Later…_

Blaise Zabini was a man who firmly believed in fate and he believed that with enough resolve, anyone could change their fate. Of course there were many who questioned his sentiments, but Blaise only had to point to himself to provide an example.

He had turned his life around after the defeat of Voldemort. Perhaps it was easier for him to do than most because his family had stayed neutral during the war and because really, he only had his mother to worry about.

Still, Blaise knew that every argument had been worth it and as he surveyed the pristine floors of the hospital, he felt a sense of quiet accomplishment fill him. He had finally made it to where he wanted to be after years of diligence and hard work.

No one had believed that Blaise Zabini, a boy who valued numbers far more than Transfigurations or Potions and who couldn't be bothered to do more than was necessary unless forced, would one day become a Healer in the field of Unusual Maladies and Magical Ailments. His own mother, who had been the first to scoff him when he sat for the exams, was now impressed enough to acknowledge and welcome him back home.

"Healer Zabini, you're needed in Room 15," Hannah, the charge nurse, broke through his musings. She handed him the patient report which he looked over as he briskly made his way to the room. The patient in room 15…His heart sank.

"When did he come around?" he asked, handing the file back and checking his pocket for his wand.

"An hour or so ago-"

"And you thought to call me now?" He didn't hide the anger in his voice.

"I-I'm sorry, but the patient-"

"The patient doesn't know what's best for him!" _Calm down, Blaise, _he told himself and took a deep breath as he opened the door.

The pale woman who never seemed to leave the room glanced up at him from the bedside where she sat holding an equally pale hand.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise greeted and she gave him a small nod, a tight smile. Blaise forced himself to smile when he turned to the patient in bed. "Draco, heard you're giving the nurses a hard time again."

His long time friend and now patient snorted in his typical fashion. "I won't if they stop fussing over me."

Blaise pulled out his wand and began casting diagnostic spells, now turning his friend's skin green or popping up blue charts with various data in midair. "They're just doing their job," he remarked, reaching out to take the pale, thin hand sporting light bruises in his own. He felt Draco's pulse and temperature simultaneously. "You're fever's down."

"Joy," Draco sighed, sinking into the thin pillow and closing his eyes briefly. "When can I go home?"

Blaise glanced at his mother who eyed him expectantly. "We need to monitor you Dray-" he began but Draco cut in.

"Does it matter? I haven't been stable for some time anyways. Can't you just pop in at my place?"

Blaise smothered the urge to glare at his friend and turned to his mother instead. "Mrs. Malfoy, why don't you have something to drink? You look dead on your feet. I'll keep Draco company."

And Hannah, who was all too used to Blaise's tactics, managed to coax the woman to accompany her, leaving the two young men alone.

"Now," Blaise began as he took the vacant seat, "Tell me what's wrong?"

Draco frowned and Blaise could see the internal battle in his mind. He had never been very expressive, even as a child, but this was important and Draco had no one to confide in besides him.

After a time, he gave another tired sigh and all the anger seemed to melt from his features. "How long more do I have to do this, Blaise?" he asked in a voice so small that Blaise had to lean in to listen. "I'm getting worse-don't deny it. I feel weaker everyday and mum…I can't bear to see her in pain anymore."

"You can't go on like this-you can't blame yourself," Blaise said, "You didn't ask for this-"

"Neither did she!" Draco cried, frustrated tears springing to his eyes. He made no move to wipe them. It wasn't the first time he had cried in front of his best friend. "Just…let me go home at least. Why can't I suffer there?"

"You know why, Draco," Blaise calmly replied, knowing they had gone through this a hundred times. "If the pain escalates, you need to be here so we can keep it under control. The potions aren't enough anymore. I'm sorry, Dray, but you can't go home."

Draco bit his lip and turned away, refusing to let Blaise see the hurt as tears trickled down his cheeks. He had been stuck at the hospital for over two months and he wondered now whether he would die here, surrounded by sickness and white walls.

Blaise said nothing, though he could see Draco's thin shoulders trembling as he cried. He had learned it was best to wait out Draco's frustration. He hated to see him in pain and he hated to be the one to cause him more pain, but this was in Draco's best interest. He didn't fancy his friend turning up at Mungo's half dead again, screaming in pain.

They sat in comfortable silence. Draco, who had calmed enough to wipe his watery eyes, spoke in a hoarse whisper, breaking the silence.

"Can you at least bring me more books? I've read the others over fifty times."

Blaise laughed weakly. "I can do that. Anything you want in particular?"

Draco looked at him then and Blaise's heart almost burst at the sadness he saw in his friend's eyes. "You know I don't care. As long as it takes my mind off this-" he gestured to the tubes and monitors and bleak walls-"anything's fine."

Blaise averted his eyes as he slowly asked, "Have you thought about what I've said before?"

"You know my answer. I'm not going to be some lab rat for some loon. I might end up worse than before-"

"But you don't know that!" and Blaise couldn't help but glare at his stubborn friend. "That man has multiple degrees, Draco! He has more knowledge about these things than any healer alive! Why won't you let him help you? Don't want to at least try to get better?"

"No!" Draco cried, equally as angry now. "Maybe I don't! Maybe after all this, I just want it to be over! What do I have to look forward to anyway, Blaise? We all can't erase our past and become Healers! I still have that stigma and I'll still have it even when I'm long dead. My only consolation is that at least I won't have to suffer the prejudice when I'm gone!"

He was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed with a fervor that made his otherwise washed complexion come alive. It had been a long time since Blaise had seen the grey eyes alight with such fire-but they were alive for all the wrong reasons.

He waited in silence for Draco to calm before remarking, "You still love her."

"What?" Draco started.

Blaise almost smiled. "Granger…you still love her, don't you?"

Draco didn't even have the energy to scowl. He simply closed his eyes, looking worse for the wear.

"Why won't you contact her? You know she's still in London-"

"She doesn't need me, Blaise. It's been two years. I know Hermione. She's not one to pine after someone forever. She's strong and independent and ambitious. If I'd stayed, I would have just gotten in her way."

Blaise snorted. "Your stubborn gits, you know that? Potter and Weasley haven't stopped looking for you. They've come close twice, Draco-"

"But you covered for me," and Draco gave him his trademark smirk. "Those two still haven't learned to outsmart Slytherins."

Blaise chuckled and shook his head. "I still don't understand why you're pushing her away. I know for a fact she isn't with Weasley. She's still single, Dray."

Draco frowned. "It's only been two years. Giver her time…" and he suddenly closed his eyes, wincing.

"What's wrong?" Blaise was at once by his side, his wand out.

"Headache," Draco murmured.

Blaise reached into his coat pocket, pulling out an injection. He filled the syringe with purple fluid from a flask on the nightstand and didn't hesitate to push the needle into Draco's arm. The blonde man didn't even wince, but his features cleared as the pain slowly ebbed.

"They're getting more intense," Blaise remarked, taking a seat by him again.

Draco eyed him with tired eyes and gave him a tight smile. "It doesn't matter Blaise," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "I think after all I've done, I probably deserve it."

Blaise wanted to smack him, but he clenched his fists. They stayed in silence till Draco dropped off to sleep.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

_Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs in my field, since the payment is pure love. _

_ ~Mildred B. Vermont_

* * *

_Epilogue_

"Mummy! Muuuummmm!"

"Coming!" Hermione dropped the laundry she had been folding and frantically hurried toward the porch, her heart hammering. She wrenched open the door and stepped outside, panting. "What's wrong?"

"Mummy lookie what I made!" cried the happy three year old toddler, his chubby arms and face smudged with mud. "A mudth pie!"

Hermione heaved a deep sigh even as she gave him a warm smile. It was a good thing she had changed him into play clothes. "It looks yummy, Addie," she replied.

"I eat!" he announced opening his mouth wide, but his wide-eyed mother swatted his hands away and the pie fell on the ground with a smack!

"Addie let me see your lips!" Hermione cried, turning up his face and wiping his lips with her sleeve. She could see the tears welling into his chocolate brown eyes.

"You drop d'a pie!" he cried making a show of sniffing loudly as Hermione pulled him to his feet. "I wanna eat da pie!"

"Yes, alright, but we can't eat mud, can we?" She grasped him by the wrist, helping him up the stairs. Aiden wailed all the way to the bathroom and stood on the cold tile, glaring miserably at his mother as she ran the bath.

Hermione endured the little boy's sniffs, rolling her eyes at his dramatics when he made a great show of wiping his eyes.

"Mommy," he whined and held his arms out to her. She pulled off his t-shirt and helped him out of his pants. He removed his teddy bear underwear himself and Hermione picked him up before carefully easing him into the tub.

"Not too hot?" she asked and he splashed her playfully in response.

"Why you-" and she sprinkled him back, smiling when he giggled.

"M' sowwy Mommy" he whispered with such child-like innocence that his mother's heart melted.

"You know not to eat off the ground, don't you love?" It was a habit he had picked up at playschool after some naughty kids dared him to lick chalk. Hermione had told the young teachers to keep a better eye on him after that-Aiden got up to far more mischief for a little boy.

Hermione had her hands full with him. Keeping an active three year old busy was hard work, but she had help. Her parents came over in the evenings some days to take Aiden to the park so that Hermione could have some time for herself. Over the weekends, she often took him to Harry's where he happily played with Teddy, giving the adults time to catch up.

"I wanna eat pie, Mommy," he said as he chugged his toy ship across the tub water. "Aunty Ginny let me have pie-"

"That was a _chocolate _pie, not a mud pie, Addie," Hermione sighed, "Close your eyes."

He obeyed and she doused water over his head, rinsing the shampoo from his baby fine strands. Even for curly hair, he had the softest locks she had ever touched. They were a fine blonde, though a bit darker than his father's, and messy like his mother's. His hair was getting a bit long, but Hermione was loathed to cut it, loving the cow licks that bounced whenever he pranced about.

"Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go to Uncle Hawwy's? I wanna play Quid-it."

Hermione smiled. "Sure, love. We'll go after lunch. You can play with Teddy till Harry comes home. Does that sound alright?"

"Yeah! Thank you Mommy," and he gave her such a sweet smile that Hermione couldn't help but kiss his wet forehead before hoisting him out the water. He weighed so little for a growing three-year-old.

She dried him quickly and made to dry his hair, but the restless three year old ran out the bathroom, squealing. "Addie!" Hermione called, running after himand laughing when he squealed.

"Come here you!" she swooped onto him with the towel and he cried in surprise when she scooped him up and spun him around before flopping him onto her bed. "Moooommmy!" he giggled, squirming when she tickled him lightly.

"Let's get you in some clothes. You don't want to shock Gramma again, do you?" He had startled her mother a couple days ago when he came at her screaming, naked and dripping wet, leaving his flushed mother to sort out his mess. As easy going as her father was, her mother was quite the opposite. It was she who had instilled proper decorum in the house after all and often she chided Hermione for being too lax with the boy.

But Hermione couldn't find in her heart to deny her son anything. He was the picture of innocence, true, although he got into quite a bit of mischief, but it was all harmless fun. She knew he would grow up one day, but for now, she wanted to preserve his childlike innocence.

"Alright Addie, lunchtime!"

"No, mommy 'm not hungwy!" he cried, scrunching up his face in a cute pout.

Hermione stared at him sternly. "If you want to go to Harry's, you have to eat. You won't be a strong Quidditch player if you don't eat."

That won his attention and he obediently climbed into the high chair while Hermione served him his lunch. He ate messily with his small spoon while Hermione sat across from him at their breakfast table drinking a cup of strong tea and reached over to wipe his smeared lips from time to time.

She cleaned him up after he finished and he dashed off to grab his toy broomstick as she disappeared in her room to change. Her son was impatiently shouting for her to hurry up when the floo burst in flames, announcing a visitor. Hermione emerged from her room, tacking her hair in a bun, and smiled when she saw Harry step out, dressed still his work robes.

"Uncle Hawy!" Aiden cried, attacking his legs and Harry smiled down at him, running a hand through his soft locks, but his tired eyes fixed firmly on Hermione.

"Harry! We were just coming over," she said as she wound her hair, but his thin lips washed the smile from her face. "What's wrong?"

He glanced at the little boy who was happily playing with broomstick at his feet, muttering things to himself in his childish voice, before returning his attention to Hermione. He licked his lips once, as though searching for his voice, before finally speaking, "We've found him."

Hermione froze, her hand still in her hair. She stared at Harry, not really seeing him as the words reeled over her. When the force of their meaning hit her, she gasped and sank to the floor, the hair clip clattering to the ground.

"Hermione!" Harry lunrched forward, catching her in his arms and slowly sinking down with her. Aiden paused to look up from his play and he watched his mother intensely. When all she did was sit on the floor, he returned to his playing.

"Hermione," Harry repeated more softly, "Are you alright?"

She merely looked at him. Of course she wasn't alright! But she gave him small nod before croaking, "How?"

"I got a letter from Blaise Zabini. He's apparently Draco's Healer-"

"Healer?" her voice trembled.

"He contacted me as Draco's friend. He's sent us his address. We can floo there as soon as you like."

She was a quiet for a moment. "Draco doesn't know anything, does he?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "I think Zabini thinks it best not to tell him. He wants to ascertain you'll come back first."

"He doubts _me? _Draco was the one who left!"

"Mommy?" Aiden was watching them with wide, having stilled at hearing Hermione's voice rise.

Hermione ignored him. "If anyone should _ascertain _anything, it should be whether Draco's willing to have me back in his life! All this time, he didn't even try to contact me! He must have known you and Ron were still searching. He must have known I was still alone-still-still waiting for him!"

And her shoulders shook as her anger dissolved into sobs. Harry pulled her into his arms and chaffed her shoulders as she cried. He glanced up at the worried toddler and gave him a reassuring smile. Aiden only dropped his toys and toddled over.

"Mommy?" he patted Hermione's head with a chubby hand, "Don' cwy, Mommy."

Hermione raised her head and gave her son a watery smile before embracing him. Resting her head on his, she planted a kiss on his curls. Aiden molded right into her lap and sat still when she began rocking them, still crying quietly.

"We've found him," she whispered, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes.

Harry met her rose red eyes and smiled warmly. "Yeah, yeah we have."

* * *

~Finished

4/26/12

Did you think this was over? Sequel posted here or now up at blogspot: www dot the-record-shelf dot blogspot dot com

sequel title: An Eternal Bliss

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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